


Wheel in the Sky

by lusilly



Series: Earth-28 [24]
Category: Checkmate - Fandom, DCU, DCU (Comics), Teen Titans (Comics)
Genre: Comic Book Science, Crisis, F/F, Falling In Love, Femslash, Gen, Multiverse, Nonbinary Character, Other, Queer Character, Queerplatonic Relationships, Science Fiction, Spies & Secret Agents, Timelines, alternate universe shenanigans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-04
Updated: 2015-10-06
Packaged: 2018-03-28 22:22:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 73,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3871912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lusilly/pseuds/lusilly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lian Harper, agent of Batman Incorporated, gets a call in the middle of the night from Iris West, who disappeared four years ago into the Speed Force. Someone who doesn't belong is knocking at the door of their universe, asking for a man whose name means 'Son of the Bat.' Irey knows more than she is telling, but what she will admit involves a thousand worlds in crisis, universes tearing themselves apart, and a strange interloper tugging at the strings of the Multiverse.</p><p>For some reason, Lian is the key to all of this. So naturally, she kidnaps an alien and runs from the law.</p><p>With the help of the fastest person alive, a half-Tamaranean, a metahuman doctor, a nonbinary Amazon, the other speedster twin (and his boyfriend), a pregnant Green Lantern, two different nefariously evil supervillain mothers, and the non-Bat superheroes of Gotham City, Lian embarks on an epic journey to stop the crisis before it begins. But she gets much, much more than she bargained for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. WHEEL IN THE SKY

**Author's Note:**

> Hello!!!!!
> 
> This is the first long fic in my Earth-28 series that cannot quite stand on its own. I really recommend you at least read Fiat iusticia before reading this (I recommend you start with Restoration for background info on Lian's gen, but Fiat iusticia directly sets up a lot of the plot here). Lian and Damian are in their early/mid twenties, living together after the fallout from Fiat iusticia. Damian is attending law school at Stanford.
> 
> This is a very different kind of fic than either Restoration or Fiat iusticia. It's way more up front about things like gender and sexuality and it’s more Lighthearted and Fun and people Fall In Love and are Happy, and also ass-kicking happens. 
> 
> For the record, yes, Adam, Niloufar Ghorbani and Jordan Joyce (and Ellen Nayar, but she comes in later) are OCs. They (except for Adam) are featured in Fiat iusticia, but you can also go to the Earth-28 tag on my tumblr (lusilly.tumblr.com) to learn more about them. The rest of the characters in this fic have been part of DC canon in some way shape or form. Tags will be updated for future chapters. Lots of cameos. Shoutout to tumbler user glencocoabutter (artzybee on Ao3) for being my partner in crime. Chapter titles taken from a playlist Lian made when she was 15 (which u can listen to here: http://8tracks.com/lusilly/no-girlfriends-allowed-a)
> 
> This is Major Plot Shit for the rest of the Earth-28 universe in years to come. Enjoy!!!

_Winter is here again, oh Lord_  
_Haven't been home in a year or more_  
_I hope she holds on a little longer_  
_Sent a letter on a long summer day_  
_Made of silver, not of clay_  
_I've been running down this dusty road_

_Wheel in the sky keeps on turning_  
_I don't know where I'll be tomorrow_  
_Wheel in the sky keeps on turning_

_I've been trying to make it home_  
_Got to make it before too long_  
_I can't take this very much longer_  
_I'm stranded in the sleet and rain_  
_Don't think I'm ever gonna make it home again_

_The morning sun is rising_  
_It's kissing the day_

_Wheel in the sky keeps on turning_  
_I don't know where I'll be tomorrow_  
_Wheel in the sky keeps on turning_


	2. SOMETIME AROUND MIDNIGHT

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lian receives three calls.

_And it starts,_   
_Sometime around midnight_   
_Orr at least, that's when you lose yourself_   
_For a minute or two_

_\---_

       It was just past two AM. Lian sat on her bed, running her fingers through her hair - cut into a bob, just below her chin, the way she used to wear it as a kid. Before her, a holographic display lit up with information, briefing her on the day. Although Damian was not yet home, she did not play it out loud, only watched and read and absorbed what it told her. She clipped a pink barrette into her bangs to keep them out of her eyes, then took it out. She looked around at the clock at her bedside.

       She said aloud, “Voice command,” and a smooth computerized voice asked her what she would like to do. “Call Damian.” After another moment, there was a gentle ringing. Then Damian’s voice, the familiar greeting opening his voicemail: “Hello Lian,” he said, because this was their private number, “leave me a message.”

       A small beep, and then she said, “I hope you have your keys on you because I’m locking the door. Text me before you get home.” It was their usual agreement, after the first few weeks of one of them coming home late at night, and the other assuming it was a burglar or assassin, and proceeding to attack them. But she felt inclined to remind him, anyway. In the months it had been since they moved in together - months? It had been nearly two years, hadn’t it? - she’d become very accustomed to hearing him come home, to saying goodnight to him, to seeing that smile on his face. Hanging up, she looked back to the information before her. Calling to check up on him, as if he wasn’t completely capable of staying out late and coming home safely. She felt like her father, but wasn’t sure if Damian was playing the part of herself, as a child, or of – Donna, maybe? Dick? Neither she nor Damian was sure they could articulate the fine line of their relationship anymore.

       The silence felt heavier, now that she had briefly broken it with her own voice. A chill ran up her spine, and she spoke another voice command, closing the holographic display.

       Then she recognized the familiarity of the chill, and she glanced up only a moment before she heard the other woman, her footsteps light on the polished hardwood floor.

       They stared at each other for a moment. And then Lian looked back down at the tablet before her, sliding the windows closed. “Hi, Iris,” she said softly, without looking up. “This a social call?”

       “No,” answered Iris West. She was not in uniform, but then again, Lian wasn’t sure she ever was anymore. Usually, she moved too fast for anyone to notice.

       “Good,” answered Lian smoothly, putting the tablet away and swinging her legs off the pink comforter of her bed. When she looked up at Iris, it was not with unkindness. “Then I won’t feel bad for not including Damian.”

       This seemed to take the other woman by surprise, although Lian wasn’t sure she could tell anymore. Something seemed blurred and flickery about the other woman’s gaze, as if she were not completely there. “You and Damian,” Iris said. Even her voice sounded buzzy, like a machine’s artificial whirring. Without taking a step towards Lian, she added, “I never would have guessed.”

       Lian stood up, stretching out her back. Casually, she yawned. “Don’t start,” she told her, then she said, “You cut your hair.”

       Iris’s hand flickered up to her short hair, red-brown. “Yeah,” she said.

       “I like it,” said Lian. “Very Harper-circa-twenty-fifteen, though.”

       With a wry grin, Iris replied, “Not hot pink yet.”

       “Pastel pink,” corrected Lian, striding forward, reaching out to take Iris’s hand with one of her own, and gently touch her hair with the other. “Which would be very cute on you.”

       “I bet you say that to everyone.”

       With a gentle little smile, Lian watched her in admiration. “You’re being careful?” she asked. “With your speed, I mean.”

       “I always am,” answered Iris. “There’s a threshold I know not to cross.”

       “Last time you crossed that threshold,” Lian replied slowly, holding the other woman’s hands, “we lost you for nine months.”

       It couldn’t have been more than five years since Iris had gone missing, lost in the Speed Force at a velocity she could not control. In the end, her brother’s powers, refracted into a weakened version of the Negative Speed Force via cuffs designed by Bruce Wayne, had been the only thing capable of bringing her back down. As far as Lian knew, it was still best for the twins to work in tandem; another break was far too possible, and could be irreversible.

       But Iris shook her head. “You didn’t lose me,” she said pointedly. “Just couldn’t find me. There’s a difference.”

       This didn’t seem to amuse Lian, who still held Iris’s hands loosely. Iris lifted her head slightly, so that it seemed she was looking down at the other woman, as if inspecting her through eyeglasses. “Do you need something?” Lian asked.

        “Actually,” Iris replied smoothly, looking back at her, “it’s about that.”

        “About the time we lost you?”

        Iris did not correct her a second time, and Lian didn’t see her gaze flicker, but then again it was hard to read her expressions when she moved faster than the speed of light. “Something’s happened,” she said. “The reverberations from whatever Damian did then haven’t stopped. They’ve gotten worse.”

       “What does that mean?” asked Lian seriously. “And when are you going to tell us what exactly Damian did?”

       With a small shake of her head, Iris replied, “I don’t know. But the ripples came from him, I know it. When they hit me, it knocked me straight into the Speed Force-”

       “It knocked the Speed Force into you,” Lian pointed out. She grinned and gave a little shrug, catching Iris’s eye. “Is that so bad?”

       Iris never laughed anymore. This always threw Lian off, not so much because she expected the other woman to think she was funny, but mostly because she suspected that Iris had always been like this, and during the years they’d been together, whether on the Titans or something more, she might have always been faking laughter for their sake. The thought disturbed Lian somewhere under the surface, and she was reminded, with not a small amount of bitterness, exactly why they’d broken up years ago.

       Iris said, “This is bigger than us, Lian.”

       “I could guess as much,” countered Lian, amused. “Did you steal that straight from a movie trailer, Irey?”

       Another not-laugh, and now Lian was finding it difficult to keep up her smile. Quietly, Iris told her, “Go get her when they call you.”

       “When who calls me?” asked Lian.

       Iris regarded her for a moment, her green eyes flickering across Lian’s face. “Someone’s plucking at the strings of the Multiverse,” she said. “And she’s going to show me who.”

       “She?” repeated Lian. She let go of Iris’s hands, a crease on her brow. “Who is she? What do you need me to do, Iris?” The other woman hovered for a moment. Then she flickered slightly, and Lian reached out for her hands again urgently, and called, “Iris!”-

       But she was gone. For a second Lian didn’t move. It had been quite some time since she had seen Iris, and the woman hadn’t been quite right since what happened with the Speed Force. She’d always been moving too fast for them, but something had changed now, deepened. Once, Lian had been in love with her depth, her conscious, calculated laughs. Now being around Irey just felt lonely.

       Lian left her bedroom, going past the living room of the relatively small apartment she shared with the youngest scion of the Wayne family. Damian had not approved of the place upon their first viewing, but she’d talked him down. There was no point, she’d argued, in buying a four-bedroom penthouse when it was just the two of them. She closed the blinds, then went to the door, turning all the locks there. The final lock wouldn’t turn right, and she narrowed her eyes as it resisted her grip - then she let go, and stepped back as it clicked open again. Down the line, each one unlocked, and then the door swung open, and he stumbled into the place.

       “Good morning,” said Lian, watching Damian adjust the book bag slung across his shoulder, then close the door behind him. Arms folded across her chest, she asked, “Don’t you have class in a few hours?”

       “I do,” he replied ruefully, holding back a grin and leaning against the door. “But I had to stay up to give Mama a kiss goodnight.”

       He leaned forward to kiss her - on the cheek, Lian thought, although she wasn’t sure - and she pulled away from him, smelling alcohol on his breath. “I’m not your mother,” she said. “But you, for the record,” she continued, as he finally allowed himself to grin, watching her with his shining eyes, “are a thousand percent less tolerable when you’re in a relationship, you know.”

       As if flattered, he shook his head, lowering his gaze. The smile on his lips did not fade. “And you,” he replied, watching her from under his dark brows, “are completely intolerable either way.” Again, he darted forward for a kiss, and she let him this time; he landed his lips on the corner of her mouth, then pulled away. Then he swept past her, dropping his bag on the loveseat. “No extracurriculars tonight?” he asked, fetching a glass from the kitchen cabinet.

       In reply, she shook her head. “Not tonight,” she said, then she added, “Weren’t you supposed to text me?”

       Extracting a carton of milk from the fridge, he poured it into his glass halfway. Then he took a sip, then looked up at her and asked, “What were you just saying about not being my mother?”

       Without smiling, she asked, “How’s Adam?”

       “Adam is healthy,” responded Damian clearly, still nursing his glass of milk. “Viral load is down, CD4 up. The wonders of modern medicine.”

       “And a partner who just happens to be a billionaire.”

       Damian bowed his head slightly in assent, raising his glass as if in a toast. “Technically,” he said, “my father is the billionaire.” He grinned at her, but she didn’t grin back.

       “You know,” she said, “I still think you’re making a bad decision.”

       “How so?”

       “By not telling him about the whole cape and cowl thing,” she said. “He wants to be a judge one day, Damian, he thinks superheroes are a total joke.”

       From her room, the door still hanging open, a shrill, echoing ring began to sound. “Superheroes are a joke, Lian,” he said, as she headed back to her room. “Why don’t you believe me when I say I’ve found a way out?”

       Lian opened her bedside drawer and retrieved the small sleek communicator. She did not answer Damian, although there were many things she could tell him, the most obvious of which being that Damian could never give up being Robin any more than he could give up being himself, and that was why he and Adam would never work out.

       “Baroness,” she answered, like a name or rank.

       As always, Rose Wilson had a tinge of low-level annoyance threading through her voice. “Tell me you’re still in California.”

       “I still am,” said Lian, sitting down on her bed. “Still looking after my Loverboy.”

       A small sigh. “You need to stop with the Queen-inspired codenames. Reeks of desperation. You’re not gonna be promoted anytime soon, Bishop, not before me.”

       “I like the irony, Missus Fahrenheit.”

       “You need to get up to STAR Labs.”

       “Any particular reason this call is coming from you, and not my Princess of the Universe?”

       “Does Director Bordeaux put up with your flirting?”

       “Yes,” replied Lian, “which is why I much prefer talking to her.”

       “My Pawns,” Rose said, testily, “were just denied access to STAR’s inner sanctum. Thought you might have a few contacts that would get you in the door.”

       Lian considered this, glancing back out towards the living room. She could hear Damian in the bathroom, brushing his teeth. He was quiet, which meant that he was listening in to her conversation. “Good thinking,” she said. “Why should I go all the way out to Proxima Centauri?”

       “Because,” answered Rose, Black Queen’s Knight, “they’ve got something.”

       “What kind of something?”

       “Something powerful. Something we need to get a reading on.”

       “You mean someone.”

       “But not anyone we know.”

       “Which is, naturally, unacceptable.” In the bathroom, Damian turned off the tapwater. “I’ll take care of it. Get me any intel you’ve got.”

       “Already sent.”

       “Good,” purred Lian, approvingly. At the door, Damian appeared, leaning against the doorframe and watching her. Glancing up at him, Lian said into the phone, “Thanks for letting me know. I’ll get back to you if I need help.” Rose said a bitter-ish goodbye, as usual, and they hung up. Damian still stood there. Looking up at him expectantly, Lian asked: “You need something?”

       He shook his head vaguely, watching her. “What’s at STAR?” he asked.

       She raised a well-manicured eyebrow, balancing her phone in hand. “What makes you think,” she asked, getting to her feet, “there’s anything going on at STAR?”

       “Proxima Centauri,” he responded, as she stood right before him; Lian was not a short woman, but Damian’s last growth spurt had given him a good four inches on her, at the least. With a small smirk for emphasis, he added, “Our nearest star.” They looked at each other for a moment, and he continued, “Unless you mean the star itself, but it’s a red sun, and fairly empty as far as I know.”

       Reaching out, she tapped him on his chest aggressively. As he grinned at her, batting her hand away – he caught it, and held her fingers in his – she replied: “I always tell my associates not to call me when I’m with you. No use talking in code around Damian Wayne.”

       “Damn right,” he replied, slipping his fingers into the space between hers. “But if that’s the best code you can come up with, I have bad news for you. Plus,” he added, “when are you not with me?”

       “Fair point,” she responded, taking her hand away from his, and leaning against the other side of the doorframe. He stood there before her, smiling slightly, and she thought what a difference a decade could make.

       Damian said, “So? What’s at STAR Labs?”

       “My dad,” answered Lian.

       “Was that him on the phone?”

       Coolly, she said, “I don’t interrogate you when you get calls at three AM, do I?”

       “No,” replied Damian fairly, “but you do sometimes go on patrol with me, so I just assumed you might be looking for a partner in whatever it is you have to do.” His eyes flashed slightly. “Is it a mission, or a heist? Because I know Jason’s been dying for a reason to bring the family out here.”

       “God, no,” said Lian, shaking her head. “The baby seems cute and all, but small children are terrible and I have no desire to meet the little treasure.”

       The grin on Damian’s face softened slightly. “You’d like little Allison,” he told her. “She’s got the best of both her parents.”

       “Which hopefully means that she’s like a mini Tam Fox,” Lian said pointedly, “because Jason Todd is terrible.”

       At this, Damian laughed, and then finally relented, stepping out of her doorway. “You’re right about that,” he answered, heading back to his own room. “And I thought, given your history, you’d be gentler on the man.”

       “Hell no,” she said, with a feigned disgust. “You know how I feel about boys, Damian.”

       “I do,” he answered, at his own door, an easy smile on his face. They did occasionally share a room and a bed, but lately, especially since Damian had been seeing Adam, they hadn’t gone so far. “Which is why I’m glad every day I’m not one.”

       She returned the smile, gentle and warm. “Not completely, anyway,” she said.

       He nodded at her. Then he made a face and held up one hand, holding up an invisible inch between his thumb and forefinger. “Li’l bit,” he said, and grinned at her. She returned the laugh, at last. “Goodnight, Lian,” he said, and she nodded in return.

       “Sweet dreams,” she told him, and he disappeared into his room. She stood there for a moment. She was good at compartmentalizing, good at priorities. But even still, in that second, she didn’t want to leave.

       The moment passed, and she went back into her room, closed and locked the door, and opened the information Rose had sent her.

       By the morning, Lian was packed – not that she needed much anyway, especially since she was under the impression that this was a recon mission. Damian was up earlier than she was, less because he had an eight AM class and more because it was mere habit for him; he slept, Lian thought, less than anyone she’d ever met. Another routine he’d picked up in the Wayne household, she was sure.

       The phone rang just past seven. It was their landline, which was completely off the grid and triple-encrypted, which actually provided for better security than any of their cell phones (except for Lian’s Checkmate communicator, but she didn’t mention that to Damian). This was the phone on which Dick called when he wanted to catch up with Damian, or through which Jai had started to drop them assignments on occasion, although he always asked them to keep it quiet that he’d been in contact with them.

       Lian was just getting out of bed, stumbling to the coffeepot, when Damian picked up the phone. “Hello,” he said, laying his book bag on the table. “Mister Harper, what a pleasure.” Her mug halfway full, Lian put down the pot, turning around to look at Damian, who smiled at her and continued, “I’m very well, thank you, and yourself?” A little laugh, and this one was sincerely shy, Lian could tell. Slowly, she went back to pouring her coffee. “Adam is also very well, thank you for asking. No, absolutely. Lian told me about that, I haven’t asked him yet but I know he adores Mia, so-”

       Coffee in hand, Lian reached out and plucked the phone away from Damian’s ear. “God,” she said to him, disapprovingly, “your small-talk is painful,” and then she put the phone to her own ear, sitting down at the table. “Hi Daddy,” she said.

       “Hi baby girl,” Roy replied mildly. “Y’know, I don’t know if you noticed, but I was kinda in the middle of talking to somebody else.”

       Glancing up at Damian, she said, “He doesn’t care. He’s got to get to school anyway.”

       “Ah. Did you already pack him his lunch?”

       “He’s a billionaire, he can buy his own damn lunch.”

       “Actually,” Damian said lightly, leaning in, “like I said, my father’s the billionaire, I just have the trust fund.”

       Amused, Roy continued, “OK, well, you know I love you, baby, but despite all odds I was in fact actually calling for your permanent roommate.”

       Lian let out a little bark of laughter. “Permanent roommate?” she echoed. “Is that what we are now?”

       “I gotta tell the guys at work something.”

       “I guess _partners in crime_ is going out of style, huh?” she asked, glancing at Damian, who finished his steel-cut oats and left the bowl in the sink. “Speaking of work,” she continued smoothly, “this is that, isn’t it?”

       Roy hesitated for a moment. Then he admitted: “Yeah, it is. It’s not an emergency, but I thought it was something he should know about.”

       “Why?”

       “I can’t tell you that, Lian.”

       “Not even if I say please?” Again, Roy hesitated. Damian left the room for a moment, either in the bathroom or searching through his room for a book, or something, but Lian lowered her voice, prepared for the opportunity. “It’s not as if I haven’t had my fingers knuckle-deep in STAR’s pies before, Dad, and if it’s a matter of confidentiality-”

       “It is, kind of, and I can’t make exceptions for-”

       “You’re not making an exception,” Lian said, cutting her father off, but gently. “I was signed on as a field agent years ago. If you let me know what’s going on, I can bring him in for you. He, need I remind you, does not have official security clearance.” She paused for effect, then asked her father doubtfully, “You were really going to break the rules for him, but not your own daughter?”

       Roy said nothing immediately, but Lian knew her father well enough to tell he had made up his mind. “Fine,” he said.

       Pleased, she settled into her seat, taking a sip of coffee. Damian came back out, picking up his things. “’Bye,” he said to her, then he was out the door.

       “We’re on your line?” Roy asked.

       “Yep,” answered Lian. “Oracle herself couldn’t tap into this phone call.”

       “OK,” said Roy. “Here’s the deal.” Although it sounded like this was a laborious step to take, coming clean, it also all came slipping out of his mouth at once, as if he’d been dying to tell someone. “We got weird readings around the Tower a while ago. No security alarms were tripped or anything, which is why you probably didn’t hear about it, but we sent some people over and…” he trailed off, then said: “We found someone.”

       Rose’s voice echoed in Lian’s ears. _Something powerful. Someone we don’t know._ “In the Titans Tower?” she asked.

       “Yeah,” Roy replied. “I know, I’m shocked none of you picked it up first.”

       That clicked in her mind as well, and suddenly she thought of Iris’s flickering eyes, a form always half not-there. “Who is it?” Lian asked, her hand still curled around her coffee mug. “Someone we know? Or, like, someone who tried to break in, or-?”

       At first, Roy didn’t seem to know exactly how to answer. “No,” he said thoughtfully. “She definitely didn’t break in. Not on purpose, at least.”

       The cryptic nature of the comment was almost lost on Lian, who sat there, face hard and set, and asked: “She?”

       “Definitely alien,” Roy continued, “Tamaranean, in fact, but she didn’t crash-land anywhere.”

       “Then how’d she get in?”

       “That’s the question, isn’t it?”

       Lian tapped her finger on the ceramic mug. “Tamaranean, you said?”

       “Yeah.”

       “That’s weird.”

       “Gets weirder.”

       Suspiciously, Lian narrowed her eyes. “How?”

       “We did the full round of genetic testing, the whole nine yards,” he said. “We’ve got the most advanced scientists in the country, and they still had trouble decoding her DNA.”

       “Why?”

       “Something’s not quite right. Like, at the atomic level. One of them explained it to me like that, like her atoms are slanted all the wrong ways. It’s making her sick, too.”

       “Atoms?” murmured Lian, thinking hard. There was something here, something connected to Rose’s call and to Iris and – Damian, too, for some reason. But she did not yet have all the pieces. “Have you called Kory? She should be able to interpret this.”

       “No,” answered Roy. “We haven’t yet. Not sure it’s a Tamaranean thing at all. Plus we’re still keeping her in confinement, and, knowing Kory, she might have something to say about that. And by something to say, I mean she might blow all of us up.”

       When Lian laughed, she hoped it sounded sincere to her father, because it did not to her. “Give her some credit. By now, she’s got to understand there are some things that need done, procedures that need to be followed.”

       “I would’ve, believe me,” countered Roy, “but here’s the kicker: the girl we found is only half Tamaranean.”

       Lian didn’t respond to this.

       “She calls herself,” Roy said, carefully, but seriously, “Mar’i Grayson.”

       Lian’s eyes widened. She leaned forward, abandoning her coffee. “Oh my God,” she said.

       “Yeah,” said Roy. “Yeah. That’s what I said.”

       “So – Dick and Kory-?”

       “She says they’re her parents. But I knew them when they were together and I also know for a fact that humans and Tamaraneans can’t make a baby, trust me, they tried.”

       Considering this, Lian ventured, “Could be a clone thing. Some kind of artificial insemination, or a DNA mix.”

       “Could be, except she insists she was conceived naturally. She almost blew my head off with a starbolt when I suggested otherwise. Didn’t realize that was a point of pride, but sure.” He let out a little sigh, then continued, “Since then, she’s refused to tell us anything else. You know what they say, don’t piss off a Tamaranean, unless you want to be dead.”

       This made Lian smile. “Is that what they say?” she asked, and her father responded with a little chuckle.

       “It absolutely is. Anyway, that’s why I’m calling.”

       “Calling Damian?” asked Lian doubtfully. “Why not Dick, directly?”

       Roy paused, and Lian wasn’t sure why. When he spoke again, she realized her question had confused him. “Oh, no,” he said. “I’m not calling to get to Dick. Nah, honestly I’m not sure I trust him not to tell Kory. I wanted to talk to Damian.”

       “What does this have to do with him?”

       Through the window of the apartment, a band of sunlight hit her across the face. She turned away from it, to keep the light out of her eyes. “Well,” Roy began, almost uncomfortably, “she says she won’t talk until she sees someone who she calls Ibn al Xu’ffasch.”

       Lian blinked. “Ibn al…” she stopped, and sat up straight. “Son of the Bat,” she said.

       “Yeah,” Roy replied. “Pretty on-the-nose, huh? Anyway, Damian was my best bet there. You let him know?”

       “He left,” Lian replied, getting up, moving out of the warm sun. “How urgent is this? Should I pick him up? We’ll come right away.”

       “Nah,” Roy said. She could practically hear him shaking his head. “By tonight would be good, if you can make it. Whoever she really is, she’s not causing a whole lot of trouble right now. Plus our holding cells are designed to keep Superman, if necessary, so there’s not a whole lot of damage she can do.”

        She stood over the sink. There was still almost half a cup of coffee left, but she poured it out. “Mar’i Grayson,” she said, tasting the name in her mouth. “Hey, this is good news. You get to coach Dick through the whole, _surprise! You have a daughter!_ thing.”

       “Yeah,” laughed Roy. “I should be good at that. I am the expert, aren’t I?”

       “You totally are,” she told him. “Thanks for letting me know, Dad.”

       “Of course, baby girl.”

       “We’ll be down as soon as possible.”

       “I appreciate that. You call me when you’re here.”

       “I will. Love you.”

       “Love you too. ‘Bye, baby.”

       She hung up. For a moment, she did not move, holding the phone in one hand, and her empty coffee mug (it was Damian’s: _#1 DETECTIVE_ , it said, in big block letters) in the other.

       Iris’s words came back to her.

_Go get her when they call you._


	3. ENCHANTED

_This night is sparkling, don't you let it go_   
_I'm wonderstruck, blushing all the way home_   
_I'll spend forever wondering if you knew_   
_I was enchanted to meet you_

\----

       As soon as she passed through security, she said out loud: “Call Dad,” and the comm in her helmet sprung to life. “Hey Daddy,” she said, as soon as he answered. “Do you still have that parking space in front of your office?”

       “Yes,” he replied, patiently. “That’s where I’m parked, though. There’s guest parking out back.”

       “Nah,” Lian said, continuing down the lanes of the scientific compound. “It’ll work. Meet you outside?” He agreed, and was waiting in front of his building when she made a sharp left with her motorcycle, tucking in between his car (a red Ferrari; other cars, like Lian’s pink Prius years ago, may come and go, but Roy’s old Arrowmobile always stayed) and the Honda Accord in the parking space beside it. Slipping off the bike and tugging the helmet off her head, she smiled at her father. “Hi,” she said.

       When she hugged him, he returned the embrace and let her kiss him on the cheek. “You can’t do that,” he said pointedly, nodding at the motorcycle.

       “I just did,” she replied. “So.”

       “I’m not paying for it if you get a ticket,” he told her. Then, as if he hadn’t noticed it the second she drove up, he asked, “Where’s Damian?”

       She shrugged, holding her helmet under her arm. “He didn’t fit on the motorcycle,” she said. Handing the helmet to him, she headed past her father, going to the building. “It’s warm,” she said, fanning her face, grinning back at him. “Can we go inside?”

       They did go inside, and Roy headed straight for the elevator to his office, but Lian stopped, turning away from her father and making a beeline for the reception desk, where a young woman was hanging up the phone.

       “Hi,” said Lian, leaning against the desk, smiling at the woman. “I’m a visitor, I think I need to be checked in.”

       “Sure. You’re not here for the conference, are you?” asked the woman, nodding and typing something into the computer.

       “No,” replied Lian, glancing around. “I don’t think so.” After another pause, she added, “Lian Jade Harper,” and the woman glanced up, obviously recognizing the name. With a modest little shrug, Lian continued, “AKA Arsenal, AKA Batman, Incorporated Agent 6891-21.” She laughed, then added, “I know, right, we don’t even get codenames, just numbers. Sucks.” She paused, then casually added, “Robin’s pretty cool, though.”

       The receptionist smiled slightly, although she didn’t seem exactly in awe. “It looks like you’re already in the system, Miss Harper,” she said, “so you don’t need to sign in.”

       “Good!” said Lian happily, without glancing back at her father, who hung back - knowing that a hovering father might hinder her flirting efforts. “You know, it’s funny,” she continued, “I’m around here quite a bit, and I don’t think I’ve ever met you before? Are you new?”

       Lian was very pleased to see the woman’s smile deepen knowingly. A good sign. “Yeah,” she admitted. “I mean, in this department at least. I used to be in Gotham.”

       Raising her eyebrows, Lian asked, “You from there?” When the woman nodded, Lian continued, “A Gotham native, excellent. I bet that’s how you know me, huh?” She laughed, and the woman returned the smile wryly.

       “Kind of, yeah,” she said. “I remember the press conference.”

       Four years ago, after a disastrous court case in which Damian’s character was defamed and almost destroyed, they had organized a press conference to clear his name. Part of that included disclosing Lian’s own relation to him – that is, an official Batman, Inc. agent on his private payroll. Somehow along the line she had also been implicated with him romantically, so to squash that before it gained any traction, she had quite publically and quite explicitly revealed that she was, and these were her exact words, “gay as fuck.”

       “Mmm,” sighed Lian. “So do I. Everything turned out OK in the end, though, huh?” Without waiting for a reply, Lian took out a little card, and picked up the pen attached to the desk. “Hey, I have some friends in Gotham - obviously,” she laughed, writing on the card, “so, I don’t know, if you’re ever back there, let me know.” She smiled, and handed the card with her phone number on it to the woman, who took it, a look of surprise on her face. Lian winked at her, grinned, and then headed back to her father. A few feet away, though, she caught herself, and retraced her steps. “Oh,” she said, with a laugh. “I almost forgot - what’s your name again?”

       The woman returned the smile, and she was blushing slightly, which cemented Lian’s success, she thought. “Odette,” she said. “Like the Swan Queen.”

       “All right,” said Lian, keeping her dark gaze for just a second longer. “OK, Swan Queen, call me when you get the chance. See you around.”

       With one final grin, she swept back to her Roy, who was still waiting for her. As they headed towards the elevator, he murmured, “Still got it, baby.”

       “Never lost it,” she replied, sweeping her bangs out of her face. “She seems nice. Didn’t know you had a new secretary.”

       As the elevator doors slid closed, Roy chuckled slightly. “She’s not a secretary,” he told her. “That was Doctor Adams, she’s weapons tech. She’s waiting for a conference group to bring them around the building. Her regular office is right next to mine.”

       Lian blinked, then glanced over at her father, something accusatory in her eyes. She asked, “So why the hell did you just let me treat your colleague like some random receptionist?”

       Again, Roy chuckled, and said, “We all gotta crash and burn sometime, baby. I actually think it went pretty well.”

       “Yeah,” she said. “We’ll see.” The elevator dinged, and the door slid open, but Roy held out a hand to keep Lian from walking out, and pressed another button. The doors closed again, and he slid a keycard through the slot and keyed in a passcode. Watching him do so, she remarked, “She’s cute, though. And a pretty name. Odette.” She hummed something, then sang gently, “ _I see her smile, and my knees start buckling_ -”

       Roy laughed, glancing around at her as the elevator slipped further downwards. “Oh, no, sweetheart,” he said, a pitying grin on his lips. “I’m pretty sure she meant the ballet, not the Disney movie.”

       “Not Disney,” Lian said pointedly, “but OK, Dad.” The elevator continued, descending so quickly she could feel it in the pit of her stomach. Watching her father, she asked, “How far are we going underground?”

       “The whole way,” he answered. “This elevator takes us right through two levels of biometric clearance.” Pointing at the camera in the corner, he said, “Keep your face visible.”

       “Efficient,” said Lian, impressed.

       Roy looked at her, grinning. “Literally the one single thing that works in this place, y’know. Yours truly excluded.” They continued to go down, and he finally asked: “So why isn’t your cute little roommate here? The real reason.”

       She shrugged again. “He had class,” she said. “And a boyfriend too, about whom he is super annoying.”

       There was a short silence. A cool voice in the elevator said: _Please place your right thumb on the scanner_ , and low flashing lights outlined the otherwise invisible fingerprint scanners on the doors before them. Both of them did so. The voice said: _Identification confirmed. Harper, Roy. Harper, Lian_. The elevator doors opened with a whirring _shhhh_.

       The funny thing about STAR Labs, Lian always thought, was that they were exactly what they looked like; the elevator opened to a regular-looking hallway, down which several doctors in long lab coats walked, talking and laughing with each other. It was like the backdrop of a B-movie where a bunch of science nerds who got together and performed mad experiments, and in fact that was precisely what they were. No nefarious evil-doings going on, certainly not as far as Lian knew. A few scientists said hello to Roy, and one older woman whose name Lian really couldn’t remember actually stopped them and said, “Oh my goodness, Miss Lian Harper! Look at you, you’re a real adult now aren’t you! When are you going to come work for _us_!”

       After they finally managed to pry themselves away from that, Roy led her past another set of security checkpoints, and then brought her to a thick metal door, where he stopped, and turned around to look at her. “Holding cell’s through there,” he said, pointing to a reinforced set of barred gates on their right, set into the concrete walls. “I’m gonna bring you in on our observation room. Kind of top secret in there, so forgive me if I skip the introductions.”

       “That’s fine,” said Lian. “I can be discreet.”

       “That’s my girl,” he said.

       They didn’t move. She glanced behind her father’s head, at the door. “Are we going in, or just planning to stand here until we get a written invitation?”

       With a small sigh, Roy said: “You didn’t even tell Damian, did you?”

       Her eyes were dark, but glimmered slightly in the stark, artificial light. “Why?” she asked. “Are you really so desperate to have him here? He wouldn’t have gotten past the security clearance in the elevator, Dad.”

       “I know,” Roy replied. “I have override authorization.” With a slight tilt of his head, he added, “Surprised I didn’t have to use it with you, to be honest. Didn’t realize you had that kind of clearance.”

       Lian watched him, unmoving but for a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. Roy knew that smile, and he knew it well. He didn’t like it at all. “A girl has to have her secrets, Daddy,” she said, confidently. “Is this really the best time for a lecture?”

       “You’re twenty-four, I don’t lecture you anymore,” he said, rolling his eyes slightly, glancing at the door behind him. “Just remember that my team’s expecting son of the bat, and instead they’re getting daughter of an arrow.”

       “A very cute arrow,” she said, reaching out, pinching his cheek. “Much cuter than Damian’s dad.”

       This seemed to perk him up slightly. “Really?” he asked. “I’ll pass that along next time I see Bruce.” Lian laughed, and Roy finally relented, turning and unlocking the metal door with another keycode.

       Inside, there were several more scientists in lab coats, tending to machines and computers and holographic screens displaying information. A scientist wearing a headscarf argued vehemently with an older woman. One entire wall was made of glass, surely reflective on the other side. It led to a wide white room where a woman hovered in air, curled up into a ball, knees tucked into her chest. Her hair was long and dark, like black fire, and her skin was a beautiful, shining golden, tinted darker by the odd filtered light in the holding cell. The woman wearing hijab argued, “There’s no point keeping her under a red sun, she’s immune to radiation – she’s not a Kryptonian-”

       A young man beside her interrupted, “But she absorbs solar radiation the same way-”

       “No, she doesn’t,” snapped the other woman. “Kryptonian physiology is supercharged by a yellow sun, Tamaraneans process the energy completely differently-”

       The older woman before whom both scientists argued looked up, and spotted Roy and Lian. She crossed the room, reaching out her hand. “Roy,” she said, sounding very relieved, if only to be rescued from her colleagues. “Did you correspond with our contact?”

       “Ah,” said Roy, with a lopsided, charming little grin. “Kind of.”

       Obviously the charm didn’t work on the woman, who raised one eyebrow. Lian reached out, offering her hand to shake. “Hi,” she said. “I’m Lian, I think we’re met a few times before – Sarah, right?”

       The woman watched her thoughtfully, then corrected: “Doctor Charles, actually.”

       “Right,” said Lian, nodding. “Sorry, I think I’ve only ever met you out of uniform. Unfortunately my father couldn’t get a hold of Damian Wayne, but I’m here representing him.”

       Lian was grateful that Sarah didn’t waste any time with the, _Oh, Lian, you’ve grown up so much!_ schtick, and got right to business. “What do you mean representing him?” she asked.

       Extracting a long pink wallet from her purse, she opened it and held it up. “I’m an official Batman, Incorporated agent under Robin’s direct jurisdiction,” she said, displaying her identification card. “He’s my boss.”

        Sarah didn’t look exactly pleased with this, glancing back up at Roy as if to demand an explanation. “Hey,” he said, holding up his empty hands. “I never promised you I could get Damian Wayne all the way out here with one phone call, Doc. Just said I’d try.”

       Meanwhile, Lian glanced behind Sarah, who said something in an undertone to Roy. Her eyes passed over the other people in the vicinity, and then widened slightly. “Excuse me,” she said to Sarah and her father, then passed into the room, going up to the scientist wearing a hijab over her head and glasses on her face. “Hey,” said Lian, recognizing her wary, suspicious expression. “I know you,” she said.

       Niloufar glanced her up at down. “Vaguely, yes,” she answered. “I thought they were bringing in Wayne, Junior.”

       “He couldn’t make it,” answered Lian. “What brings you so far from Gotham?”

       “My expertise,” she told her, almost coldly. “I do my regular research in Metropolis. But the subject needed a real doctor, not a specimen analyst, and I was the most qualified.”

       Lian looked out the expansive window, at the alien woman who hovered there. She took a few steps towards the glass, until she was right before it. Niloufar followed her. “A real doctor?” Lian echoed.

       “Mhm,” Niloufar replied, gaze flickering from Lian’s face to the alien in the room before them. “MD and everything.”

       “She’s sick?”

       “Falling apart, more like.” Her expression seemed to soften slightly as she watched the other woman through the glass. Niloufar continued, “There aren’t really any scientists – or doctors – out there prepared to deal with whatever’s happening to her. Trying to keep her body together is opening up a whole new field of study, something like atomic biology.” She paused, glancing back at Lian. “It was worse her first week or so,” she added. “She’s much better now. As far as I can tell, her atoms are adapting, fixing herself better than we can do.” Pointedly, she finished, “But she’d do a lot better if they let her out in direct sunlight now and then.”

       Considering this, Lian asked, “How do you mean she’s fixing herself? Due to her natural invulnerability?”

       “I doubt it’s a component of her Tamaranean physiology,” Niloufar replied, like she’d clearly given this some thought. “In my opinion, it has to do with wherever she came from.”

       Lian looked back at the doctor, a deep crease of concern on her brow. “What do you mean?” she asked, her voice slightly lowered. “Where did she come from?”

       Niloufar stared past the glass pane, watching the woman hover in air, delicate but still shining, thrumming, somehow, under the red sun energy. “Off the record?” she said, her voice low. Her eyes slid across to Lian, peering at her from behind her glasses. “I don’t know,” she said simply. “But not here.”

       Abruptly, Lian turned around. “I need to talk to her,” she said.

       Sarah raised her eyebrows, and then glanced at Roy, who nodded. “Agent Harper,” she said, striding over to stand beside her. “What makes you think you’re remotely qualified to-?”

       Without glancing behind Sarah’s shoulder at her father, Lian pulled out the wallet again, and took out another identification card, different from the one she’d shown earlier. Sarah fell silent, looked up at Lian’s face – her flat, unassuming expression, dark, intelligent eyes – and then nodded. “Doctor Takamoto,” she said, to the man who’d been arguing with Niloufar.

       His eyes widened in disapproval. “Doctor Charles, I hardly think this _girl_ is-”

       “This _girl_ ,” Lian said coldly, voice like cut glass, “has security clearance you've never even heard of.” She paused, turning her head to look at him, and finished: “Your superior gave you an order, Doctor.” She turned her head to look at him, and he held her gaze for just one moment before looking away. Defeated, he slunk back to one of the control panels, hitting a sequence of codes.

       Roy sidled up to his daughter. Under his breath, he started to say, “Look, baby, this ain’t the military, you know-”

       But then there was a loud ringing _beep_ , and a green light came to life above the small door next to the window pane. Lian paused, looking at Niloufar. “I don’t need any kind of protection?” she asked.

       Niloufar shook her head. “Whatever’s in her body, it’s not infectious,” she answered. “As long as she doesn’t attack you, she can’t hurt you.”

       Worried, Roy asked, “Is that a legitimate concern-?” but Lian ignored him, opening the door and entering the room quickly, closing it behind her.

       Everything was silent. Even the mechanical buzzing of the machines and computers in the observational room completely disappeared, leaving a pervading, deep silence in which Lian was acutely aware of every small shift of movement.

       Floating above her, the alien lifted her head.

       Like Starfire, her eyes were a bright, gently glowing green, leaving phosphorescent lights behind Lian’s eyes when she moved, like neon trails in nighttime. The violet clothes she wore were not armored; like Starfire, she probably didn’t need that much physical protection either. _Then again_ , thought Lian, watching the alien straighten up to stand in air, floating a few feet above the ground, _she_ is _half human, right?_

       Lian moved forward, and placed her bag on the small desk at the side of the room. “Hey,” she said.

       The alien didn’t say anything.

       “I’m Lian Harper,” she began, opening her bag and digging through it for something. “I know you didn’t ask for me, but unfortunately right now I’m the best you’re gonna get-”

       Mar’i said, “I know who you are.”

       Lian looked up at her. Now that she was looking directly at her, Lian could tell that irises and pupils were just barely visible in the woman’s eyes, as if covered by nothing more than a green film. These were different than Kory’s eyes, which Lian knew very well. “You do?” she asked, watching her carefully. She could not yet tell if Mar’i threatening her or not.

       Then the expression on the alien’s face changed slightly, and she floated back down to the ground. “Yes, I do,” she replied, almost like a pout. “And I’m _so_ surprised they sent you instead of Ibn.”

       “Ibn,” echoed Lian, catching the name, holding onto it. “They didn’t send me, Miss Grayson. He did.”

       Mar’i watched her. Then she said: “You’re my friend. Call me Mar’i.”

       “I’m sorry, but,” said Lian, reaching back into her bag, “I’m not your friend, Miss Grayson. I don’t know you.” She retrieved something, a thick paper - a photograph. She held it out to the other woman, who moved forward and took it. “And,” she continued, “I get the feeling you’ll know him,” she nodded at the photo, “but I can guarantee you he doesn’t know you.”

       To Lian’s surprise, when she glanced back up at the woman, there were tears in her eyes. She met Lian’s gaze, arched eyebrows lowered, watching Lian, in pain. Where she held the photograph, it began to burn. “Where am I,” she said, and it was far more like a demand than a question. Holding up the photo - Damian, smiling at the camera haughtily (as always), in a selfie of them taken on Lian’s phone - Lian had tried to crop herself out of it, but had only been halfway successful - Mar’i asked lowly, “Who _is_ this?”

       Lian tried to take the photo from Mar’i’s hands, but she wouldn’t budge, only jerked her arm away and the photo out of Lian’s reach. Lian had not anticipated a reaction like this (but then again, she should have - Tamaranean blood). “His name is Damian,” answered Lian. “He’s Bruce Wayne’s son, and I think the man you were looking for.”

       “Damian?” echoed Mar’i, no recognition in her eyes. “No. No, this is not…” she trailed off, then looked back at the photo.

       It suddenly, brutally occurred to Lian that this might somehow be much more than a case of mistaken identity, or some kind of cloning, or some other kind of universal shenanigan. There was something wrong here. Mar’i had lost something, and she was in pain. Gentler now, Lian reached out to touch the other woman; Mar’i allowed her to do so, and Lian lowered herself down to a seat at little desk. “Mar’i,” she said, quiet. “How do you know me?”

       Mar’i sat at the table, still clutching the photo. “Where I...come from,” she began, carefully, without looking up at Lian, “we call you...Red Hood. You have,” she gestured to her own hair, sweeping it out of her face, “red… red hair. It used to be a wig. You dye it now.”

       Bitterly, Lian smiled at her kindly. “Wow,” she said, leaning against the table. “I can’t believe there’s a universe out there where I’m a ginger.”

       At this, Mar’i laid the photograph down on the desk before her, pressing it flat against the surface. There was a silence between them, and Lian gave the other woman a long moment. At last, very quietly, she said: “I thought that might be it.”

       Lian didn’t glance up at the mirrored window, but she knew that, behind the pane of glass, they were listening to every word, transfixed on the thought, on Mar’i’s quiet confession. “Have they told you anything about us?” she asked. “About our universe, I mean?”

       “A little,” Mar’i answered, looking up at Lian. “But then I told them I wouldn’t listen, not until I spoke to Ibn.”

       Lian watched her. “But you knew Ibn didn’t exist in our world,” she countered.

       Mar’i shook her head. Before her, on the table, there was a burn mark on the photo where she had been holding it tightly. “He does exist,” she said, watching Damian’s arrogant face, frozen in a half-smile. Returning her gaze to Lian, she said, “He’s just not the man I know.”

       “No,” agreed Lian. “He’s not.” There was another pause, and then Lian continued, “Mar’i, you’re in the custody of STAR Labs right now. Do they have STAR where you’re from?”

       “Yes,” answered Mar’i. “They told me who they were.”

       “OK, good,” continued Lian. “Then you know you’re not in any danger.”

       “Of course I knew that,” replied Mar’i, but she didn’t seem sharp, or stinging; instead it was almost a gentle voice, as if she was the one reassuring Lian. Glancing back at the reflective surface, Mar’i said, “The doctor - Doctor Ghorbani, she’s been helping me.” Turning back to Lian, she said earnestly, “I’m very grateful. Please let her know.”

       Lian watched her big green eyes, and nodded. “I will,” she said. Mar’i said nothing, again looking at the photograph before her. Lian felt strangely unprepared for this; she had walked into this room expecting a mission, and had instead been confronting with a woman - one who was grieving, from the look of it. Gently, she leaned forward, towards Mar’i, and said, “Look, I don’t want them to keep you locked up in here anymore. But it’s STAR’s job to keep us safe.” She paused, then added, “Unfortunately, I don’t think you’re quite one of us, yet.”

       “I understand,” said Mar’i, flashing a weak smile at Lian. “My grampa is Bruce Wayne, Lian, believe me, I understand caution.”

       Nothing. Then Mar’i reached out and plucked the photo from the table before her, and handed it back out to Lian, who took it very slowly. With only a very gentle hint of bitterness in her voice, Mar’i asked, “Is that you, with him?”

       Lian nodded, taking the photo. She replaced it in the bag she had brought.

       “Are you in love with him?” asked Mar’i.

       “No,” said Lian. She wondered if, from behind the window, her father had anything to say about that.

       “Oh,” said Mar’i. “You look like you would make a very cute couple.”

       There was silence for a moment, and then Lian had to laugh, just a little bit. “Thank you,” she said. “I’ll pass it along to him,” After another beat, she added, “I’m sure that you two were beautiful together, as well.”

       “Thank you,” she said, in return. “I don’t exist in this universe, do I?”

       “No,” answered Lian again. “Nor have we told Dick or Kory that their alternate-universe-daughter just showed up. All in due time.”

       Mar’i shook her head. “Why bother them?” she asked, with that same small smile on her face. “They’re not my parents. Just like he’s not my beloved.”

       The word hurt Lian vicariously; she thought of Damian, of things he had told her in confidence, of words he couldn’t say without a visceral pain. She said nothing. “Do you know who sent you here?” asked Lian, refusing to let this touch her.

       This time, when Mar’i looked up at her, those green eyes flashed slightly. There were no more tears in her eyes. “Nobody sent me,” she said, a pulse of confusion running through her voice; she sounded, Lian thought, extraordinarily like her father. Mar’i said, “I escaped.”


	4. RENEGADE

_Oh, Mama, I'm in fear for my life from the long arm of the law_   
_Hangman is coming down from the gallows and I don't have very long_

\----

       “She’s not a threat,” said Lian bluntly, leaning against the wall of the stark office. Sarah sat behind the desk, and Roy before it, Niloufar hovering with her clipboard right beside the desk. Arms folded – and she knew how precisely aggressive she looked, and she owned it, Lian pressed, “I don’t see any reason why you need to keep her any longer.”

       Tiredly, Sarah began, “We’re not positive about-”

       “With all due respect, Doc,” said Roy, leaning in. “She’s just a girl who got lost. By all means, keep looking for ways to send her home, but in the meanwhile…” Sarah considered this, and Roy added, “Look, we’ve had her for, what, three weeks now? She’s had plenty of opportunities to blow us all to pieces, believe me, I know Tamaraneans and I know what they can do. But she’s been cooperative the whole damn time.” He paused, then continued, “More’n that, when I look at that kid, I can see her parents – alternate universe versions, they may be.” He met Sarah’s gazing, knowing she could too. “But I know Dick and Kory and I know they wouldn’t have raised a daughter who would hurt innocent people.”

       Sarah seemed to consider this, and then she glanced around and asked, “Doctor Ghorbani?”

       “She’s well enough to leave the facilities,” Niloufar answered, professionally. “And I believe her condition would continue to improve were she allowed access to direct sunlight.”

       “Done,” said Lian, stepping forward, standing behind her father’s seat. “I’ll take Dad’s convertible and take her down to Palo Alto. She can stay in my apartment.” No one in the room looked comfortable with this, but before they could protest, she continued, “That way, she can meet Damian too.”

       Hesitant, Sarah began to say something, but then Niloufar cleared her throat slightly and began, “Doctor Charles – if I may.” Sarah looked to her with a nod. “Mar’i needs to stay in the area,” Niloufar continued, addressing Lian. “My work may be here at STAR, but she is my patient. Just because she’s healthy enough to leave that red-sun dungeon we’re keeping her in doesn’t mean she’s completely recovered. I need to be able to monitor her recuperation, in case of an emergency.” She paused, then added for emphasis, “You won’t find anyone else in the country equipped for that. She needs me.”

       Sarah and Roy still watched her, considering this; Lian said, “All right, so what does that give us? Thirty mile radius?”

       Niloufar looked at her, then nodded. “That sounds fine,” she said.

       Lian didn’t say anything more, and she didn’t glance down at her father, but he knew what was coming. With a heaving sigh, he exchanged looks with Sarah, then said: “I can take her.”

       “ _We_ can take her,” corrected Lian. Smiling, she placed her hands on her father’s shoulders. “You still haven’t touched my room, have you, Daddy?”

       “No,” he replied, without so much as looking up at his daughter. To Sarah, he continued, “We have a guest room, hasn’t been used in years. Plus I’ve been at that house since this one-” he nodded up at Lian “-was pretty little, so it’s got top-grade security. Can’t even get through the front door without biometrics.”

       For a long moment, Sarah seemed to consider this. She glanced up at Niloufar, who hesitated, then nodded. “All right,” said Sarah, leaning in. “She’s still technically under STAR custody this way, which might be for the best.”

       “Why?” asked Lian belligerently. “Why is it at all necessary to keep her under lock and key-?”

       “Hey,” said Roy, turning around and looking up at his daughter. “They’re letting her go, Lian, aren’t you listening? Plus, come on. What else is she gonna do? We just supposed to shoo her away and hope she figures this all out on her own? Nah,” he turned back to face Sarah, shaking his head. “We’ll take her home,” he said, assuring the older doctor. “Get some homemade food in her, chili and some T-bone maybe, anything’s gotta be better than here – and we’ll see where she wants to go from there.”

       He smiled genially at the women, and Lian felt a rush of affection for her father, tempered slightly at the ever-present slight disdain leftover from adolescence, which she feared would never go away. Sarah agreed, and authorized the move immediately; they returned to the observation room, where the older doctor went inside to speak to Mar’i, to tell her what was going on. Lian and Roy watched through the big window.

       “When are you gonna tell Dick?” asked Lian, watching her.

       Roy let out a little chuckle, then said, “That’s the last thing on my mind. Let’s get her a good meal and a nice bath first, huh? Let her detox from this whole ordeal before we spring alternate-universe parents on her.”

       Lian grinned slightly, glancing at her father. “Wonder if they have _The Notebook_ in her universe,” she remarked.

       Rolling his eyes, Roy said, “Right, because that’s just what I need, a weeping alien hanging out in my living room-”

       “Agent Harper!”

       Both Lian and her father looked around; Niloufar strode forward, readjusting her glasses. Even she didn’t seem one hundred percent sure whom she’d been calling. “Here,” she said, holding out a small orange bottle, filled with pills.

       Roy reached out to take it, but Lian plucked it from Niloufar’s hand before he could. “What’s this?” she asked, inspecting them.

       “Pain medication,” replied Niloufar simply. “It’s the only synthesis we found that works with her physiology.”

       Watching the doctor, Roy said, “I thought you said she’s getting better.”

       Addressing him, Niloufar replied, “She is, in that her body’s starting to realign to this universe, on an atomic level.” She hesitated, glancing in between him and his daughter, then continued, “But this isn’t for that. Not precisely.”

       When she said no more, Lian shook the bottle slightly. “OK, I’ll bite,” she said. “What is it for?”

       Niloufar looked uncomfortable for a moment, glancing behind them at the window into Mar’i’s cell. Then she lowered her voice and leaned in towards them. Very simply, she said, “She’s postpartum.”

       Both Roy and Lian blinked at her, Lian uncomprehendingly at first, even as Roy let out a small sympathetic sound, and also turned around to look through the window. “Shit,” he said. “How long?”

       “About two months,” answered Niloufar. “So it wasn’t exactly yesterday, but the toll the universe-shift is taking on her body has set her back a few weeks.” Nodding at the pills, she added, “The medication is for her own comfort. Honestly we’re doing our best to keep her from thinking about it.” Tearing her gaze from the window, she looked back at Lian. “If anything else comes up, please get her back to me right away.”

       “Hold on,” said Lian, looking in between Niloufar and her father. “Are you telling me that our alien – is a _mom_?”

       Sounding pained, Roy said, “Two months. A new mom.”

       Not long after that, Lian and Roy were leading Mar’i out to his Ferrari, in the front of the building. The second that she stepped outside her eyes and skin brightened slightly, the ends of her hair wispy and warm like fire. She took nothing with her, not even clothes; STAR had provided her with a clean uniform, something almost like scrubs. Lian turned autopilot on her motorcycle, and it went racing home before them. Roy offered to close the top of his precious convertible, but Mar’i said, “Please, please, _please_ don’t,” and he didn’t. She sat in the back, graciously taking the pair of sunglasses Lian offered to her (Lian’s third-favorite pair, the ones with the little flowers on the horned rims), and grinned, facing the wind that blew into her face, her hair flying along behind them like a comet’s tail.

       “OK, Miss Grayson,” said Roy, as he turned the car into the driveway; Lian looked up at the house adoringly. It was the house of her adolescence, the place to which they’d moved after the wreckage in Star City. “Here we are. Welcome to the Harper residence.”

       “It’s _lovely_ ,” Mar’i said, beaming as Lian helped her out of the car. “Do you both live here?”

       “Oh, no,” answered Lian, shaking her head. “I moved out years ago. I bet my room hasn’t changed at all since I was sixteen, probably.” She and Mar’i watched as Roy went to the front door, unlocking it with his keys and a voice recognition and a fingerprint scan. Catching Mar’i’s gaze, she grinned at her, and said, “That’s my dad for you. One step below Batman in paranoid security.”

       “Hey,” called Roy, successfully opening the front door and gesturing for them to come in. “It’s kept my ass safe all these years, hasn’t it?”

       Mar’i laughed, a gentle, tinkling giggle. She followed Roy into the home, and Lian closed the door behind them, never taking her eyes off the back of Mar’i’s head. Roy was instantly showing her around, pointing out all the junk food in the kitchen and offering her any and all of it. It occurred to Lian that this was not how a woman who’d just lost her entire world – including the child she’d only recently given birth to – should be acting.

       In the few moments they’d had, Roy and Mar’i were already deep in conversation, grinning at each other. “Where I come from,” she told him, smile wide, eyes glowing, “you drive a Prius.”

       He let out a shouting laugh of disbelief. “No!” he wheezed, slamming his hand on the counter. “ _Never_.”

       Lian entered the kitchen, leaning in on the counter at which Mar’i sat. “Payback,” she said, pointing at her father. “For when you made me drive that god-awful machine for an entire year.”

       “Oh, come on,” replied Roy, rolling his eyes. “That was a sweet sixteen birthday present from Oliver. It was bright pink, don’t lie, you loved it.”

       Giggling, she leaned in towards Mar’i and told her, pointedly, “I did not love it.” Then she added, “Did love the bike that came after it, though. That was a great – what, twenty-first birthday present?”

       “Twenty-first, yeah,” replied Roy, nodding at her thoughtfully. “Your first beer and a new motorcycle, I remember that.”

       Again, she leaned in to Mar’i. “My _first_ beer,” she said, with a little grin.

       Mar’i returned the giggle, green eyes wide. This close, Lian could see a defined outline of an iris and pupil much more clearly. “For my twenty-first,” she said lowly, conspiratorially, “ _my_ father gave me the Titans Tower. My mother,” she continued, “argued that it wasn’t his to give, but,” she shrugged, “no one else was using it.”

       Lian hesitated, awkward, unsure how to talk about the place Mar’i had lost. Fortunately, Roy rescued her. Leaning in, he asked, “I’ve been meaning to ask – your poor dad.” He laughed. “How’d he like living in a house with two Tamaranean women?”

       She grinned back at him. “He survived,” she answered, “just barely. When Mom left, it was easier on him, I think.”

       The expression on Roy’s face didn’t falter, which impressed Lian. “Aw, damn,” he said, glancing at his daughter, “is there any version of Dick and Kory that managed to stay together?”

       “I doubt it,” said Mar’i, and _damn_ , it had been, what, three weeks? How could she talk about it all so easily? “They loved each other,” the alien sighed, almost wistfully. “But they were too much for each other, is what I always think.”

       Then, there was another pause. Roy watched the girl with a sort of gentleness on his face that Lian was used to, but which she was not used to him giving to people who weren’t her. “Hey,” she said gently, reaching out to touch Mar’i on the shoulder, “how about we get you into some real clothes?”

       The touch seemed to viscerally strengthen Mar’i, and she beamed up at Lian almost dreamily. Lian’s hand on her stayed between them, Mar’i’s skin warm, almost as if electrified to the touch. When she stood up, she took Lian’s hand, gazing into her eyes. “Yes,” she said, eagerly, “of course.”

       Most of the clothes in Lian’s bedroom – which was still pink and absolutely covered with stuffed animals, as when she was a teenager – were too small for Mar’i, but there were a few big sweaters that fit, the kind of thing Lian would’ve worn on a lazy night in. On Mar’i, they seemed simple but complete, and flawless, and beautiful. Her face growing slightly warm, Lian had to look away as Mar’i changed, even though Mar’i didn’t seem to mind at all.

       Roy cooked burgers and fried frozen French fries right in the pan, and then they sat around and watched reruns of _Whose Line Is It Anyway?_ until Roy got up, kissed Lian on the forehead, and told them it was about time for this old man to call it a night. “OK, senior citizen,” she replied, as he headed upstairs. “Sweet dreams.”

       “You too, babes,” he replied. “Lian, be a good little host for our guest, alright? Mar’i, goodnight.”

       The other woman said goodnight, and it was just her and Lian on the couch, in the dark, watching TV. Lian reached for the remote, but Mar’i must have thought she was reaching for her hand, because she took it, and held it. She laid her head against the armrest of the couch, curled up like a cat, warm, warm fingers still wrapped around Lian’s.

       Instead of moving away, Lian sat there, holding hands with the half-alien stranger in her childhood home.

       When Lian awoke the TV was still on. A rerun of _Friends_ played, one of the Thanksgiving episodes. In front of the couch, the tall, lean figure of Iris West stood above Lian. Immediately she got up, delicately extracting her hand from Mar’i’s, who still held onto her. Sweeping her bangs out of her face, Lian whispered, “What do you want?”

       Iris glanced at Mar’i. “I’m glad you found her,” she said.

       “Me too,” replied Lian, with what could have been a little too much aggression. “Now what do you want with her?”

       Like frozen daggers, Iris’s gaze slid back to Lian. “It’s not a question of what I want,” she said lowly. “This is about the universe, Lian. This is so much bigger than you know-”

       “Can you give her a good night’s sleep first?” demanded Lian, still whispering. “Give her maybe two days out of that damn containment cell they had her in?”

       Sharply, Iris said, “No. I can’t. There isn’t time for that.”

       Lian gaped at her for just a moment, then closed her mouth. She watched the other woman, her eyes hard. Then she said: “I don’t know when you got so cold, Iris.”

       “I didn’t,” Iris replied. “You got soft.”

       “She’s a mother,” pressed Lian, throwing an arm behind her to gesture back at Mar’i, who still slept soundly. “She lost her world and her child. Give me, like, ten seconds with her before you show up talking about universal cataclysms – of which,” she continued, venom in her voice, “I’ve heard nothing about except _your_ word.” She narrowed her eyes, watching Iris. “I don’t know what’s going on,” Lian continued, her voice lower, but more sympathetic. She didn’t like being hard and mean with Iris. “But I can prioritize. And right now, she’s more important than you are, Irey. I’m sorry.”

       Iris watched Lian, her eyes steely and unreadable. From the TV behind her, Rachel said, “ _I wasn’t supposed to put beef in the trifle_.”

       Then Iris glanced at the sleeping woman. She did not shift, in deep slumber. Quietly, Iris began, “If I could just talk to her-”

       “You will,” said Lian steadily, holding up a hand. “Just be patient.”

       Iris’s gaze flickered slightly, something unsure glinting in her eyes. “Patience,” she told Lian, “is not my strong suit.”

       With a gentle laugh, Lian replied, “I know, better than most. But if the universe-”

       “Multiverse,” corrected Iris.

       “-if the Multiverse can survive for another day or so,” Lian finished, smoothly, “then I would really appreciate the time. OK?”

       Iris hesitated. Then she nodded. “I’ll be back,” she whispered, under her breath.

       “Oh, that’s not fair,” said Lian, “you’ve never even _seen_ that movie-”

       But Iris was gone. Lian glanced around the room, at Mar’i still fast asleep, golden skin glowing slightly in the dark room. On the TV, a laugh track played.

\----

   _Zzt._ “Coppertone, this is Alpha, we are in position.”

       “Roger that Alpha, wait on my command. Beta?”

       “This is Beta, we’re in position.”

       “Roger that. Remember this is extraction only. Go in, grab the Strawberry, get out of there. Do not engage with Scarlet. Do not even give her _time_ to engage with you. She will tear you apart.”

       “Coppertone,” a cocky voice, she hated cocky voices, “she’s unarmed, and asleep. I think we can handle a twenty-two year old.”

       Rose didn’t say anything immediately. And then she said, “She’s twenty-four, soldier. T-minus three minutes once the security line is cut. Beta, on your count.”

       “Roger that. Deadzone in three – two – one-”

       Alpha team – Rose Wilson’s collection of Pawns, hand-selected to work under her. She chose them both due to their skill and also because, most of the time, they were the most tolerable out of all the candidates she’d considered. But not always. Not now, she thought. But then again, everything about this moment seemed wrong.

       There was a shout, and then the sound of a blow landing on the commlink. Rose swore, hovering in the silent stealth helicopter above the home. “We have a situation,” said the same voice, loud now. “Turns out – Scarlet – wasn’t asleep-”

       “Beta, get in there, now,” barked Rose, and then the sound of a commlink being roughly pulled out of an ear.

       “You have,” came Lian’s voice, demanding and authoritative, “thirty seconds to get out of my father’s home.”

       “Scarlet,” said Rose, knowing Lian would recognize her voice. “Bishop. Calm down. This is an extraction mission, that’s it-”

       The fuzzy sound of the commlink being crushed, and Rose swore again, then went to the edge of the helicopter, and jumped.

       In the house, three agents bore down on Lian, two of them holding her tightly in a chokehold, the third holding up a firearm – it didn’t look like a conventional gun, if Lian had to guess, black dots popping before her eyes, it shot darts, tranqs, probably-

       Pink starbolts, hot, dangerous energy, lit up the room, hitting both agents holding Lian down; instantly, she drew a long knife from one of the fallen agents’ belts, and threw it at the man with the tranq gun. It hit him squarely in the shoulder, and he stumbled backwards, and fell. Lian moved forward, picked up the weapon, and fired it once into his neck.

       Then she leaned down, picked up his commlink, and said: “Didn’t realize you needed twelve-inch hunting knives for a simple extraction mission, Rosie.”

       It was only then that she looked around to see Mar’i, fists glowing with pink energy. She did not ask what was happening, only, “Who are they?”

       Lian shook her head. “It’s not important,” she told her. “The only thing you need to know right now is that they shouldn’t be coming after us.”

       “Why are they-?” but before Mar’i could finish, a net came from nowhere, launched from behind her – they’d secured the front hall already, Lian was sure – and Mar’i screamed as the net pulsed a bright white, electrified, holding her tightly. Lian shouted her name, then, teeth bared, looked out at the agents behind her. Still holding the tranq gun, she knocked Mar’i to the ground and leapt onto the couch, shooting at anyone she could see, at the exposed places where their body armor wouldn’t help them – necks, under their arms, knees. There were only six shots, but every one of them rang true. She discarded the tranqs and loped over to the nearest fallen soldier, removing the automatic weapon from his grip, keeping an eye around her. The next agent to approach her, she riddled full of bullets (she was pretty sure he was wearing a vest), and then she went back, clenched her teeth, and cut through the electrified ropes binding Mar’i.

       “Come on,” she murmured, helping her to her feet, weapon slung around her shoulder. Mar’i stumbled, weak. “Can you walk?” she asked, checking her methodically for wounds.

       “Yes,” Mar’i replied faintly. “But I need – sunlight.”

       Grimly, Lian glanced out the windows, at the stars still dotting the nighttime sky. “Yeah,” she said, “you’re gonna have to wait for that,” and then she dragged Mar’i past the bodies in the front hall, out onto the front lawn.

       The helicopter still hovered, low but silent. At the foot of the lawn, Rose Wilson stood, her swords in hand. Leaving Mar’i behind her, protectively, Lian strode forward. “What,” she hissed, in the quiet of the night, “in the _hell_ do you think you’re doing, Coppertone?”

       Rose shrugged, lowering her blades. “Sorry Scarlet,” she said. “Orders are orders.”

       “On whose authority?” demanded Lian, holding up her weapon. She wasn’t completely sure if Rose’s precognition was good enough to dodge automatic fire, but it occurred to her that she was about to find out.

       “Someone more important than you,” answered Rose icily. “That’s all you’re getting.”

       Lian fired a warning burst right above Rose’s head. “Who?” she demanded. “You’re the one who sent me in in the first place, and now you’re kidnapping the target _from_ me? You have ten seconds to explain what’s going on, because I have a gut feeling something’s wrong here, Coppertone, and I trust my instincts, and,” she held the gun up, pointed at Rose’s torso, “and I am not above using this to give you a gut feeling too – right through to your spine.”

       Mar’i moved forward, gently put a hand on Lian’s shoulder. “Lian,” she said. “I think I can help-”

       “Stay down, Mar’i,” she barked, without taking her eyes off Rose. “I’ve got this.”

       Rose’s jaw clenched in an ugly scowl. “Harper,” she said, lowering her voice – she took two steps forward, and then Lian shook her head, and she stopped.

       “You want me to let her go?” Lian demanded, loudly. She knew that people in the surrounding homes had heard the commotion and gunfire by now, and she hoped they were smart enough to stay in their own homes. “Then get me the Director on the phone, now. And she better have a damn good reason or I’m taking off, and I’m taking the subject with me.”

       Mar’i reached out, and this time her grip on Lian’s shoulder was strong, and burning. “I’m not a _subject_ -” she began, but again, Lian shook her off.

       Rose hesitated, then she said something in a language that Mar’i didn’t know. Lian listened to her, then replied shortly.

       Mar’i took bodily hold of Lian, turned her around, and kissed her on the lips.

       The scene seemed to slow down; Lian’s weapon pressed into Mar’i’s side, but as soon as she realized this, she dropped it, hands going up to the alien’s face, unsure of where to put them. There were, Lian tried not to think, butterflies in her stomach.

       Then Mar’i turned back to the other woman. In Khmer, their code language, Mar’i said: “If I can’t understand what you’re saying, do not talk about me.”

       Rose watched her wearily. Then she gripped her swords tightly, and she said, “Queen’s orders, Harper.”

       Lian held her weapon up, blinking away the feel of Mar’i’s soft, warm mouth on hers. “All I need is one call from the Director, Rose,” she said.

       “Hand the subject over to me and you’ll get all the calls you need.”

       “I’m _not_ ,” repeated Mar’i, eyes glowing bright green, her the ends of her hair twisting like flames, “a _subject_ -” and then she shot off from the ground, leaving a pinkish trail behind her, hair glowing in the sky at night.

       Lian let out a shouting swear, and Rose said into her commlink, “Strawberry’s left the building, get satellite tech moving right away, I want her exact location now-”

       A shot rang out from the house, and, faster than Lian could see, Rose ducked and rolled on the ground, missing the sniper’s shot. Lian didn’t turn around, but knew her father was on the roof, for backup. When Rose got to her feet again, eyes blazing angrily, she began, “I am an international agent, Harper – this is _way_ beyond your pay-grade-!”

       Then something huge and loud and screaming burst through the darkness, lighting up the residential street as if it were daytime; the Checkmate helicopter crumbled into dust under the refracted power of a star that Mar’i shot at it, and Rose dodged and threw herself across the lawn as the machine crashed on onto the driveway, blades spinning frantically. Lian could practically hear her father’s cry of pain as the chopper fell onto the red Ferrari, destroying it completely, then getting halfway through the garage door before it finally settled into place, a mess of metal and plastic and wired controls on the front of the house.

       A fiery hand grabbed Lian’s wrist, and Mar’i tugged her away from the wreckage. Rose screamed into a commlink, but Lian just tore away from Mar’i to go to the front door, grabbed her keys off the hook there, and then sprinted into the street, slamming a button. “Mar’i!” she called, and the other woman shot through the air, a bright pink streak, and then Lian’s motorcycle came rolling up from the garage underneath the house, safe from the chopper’s destruction, and she hopped on and set off down the street.

       By the fifth mile, she turned the bike on silent stealth mode, and Mar’i settled down behind her, wrapping her arms around Lian’s waist. By the fiftieth, around small streets and back alleys and away from the city center, she was sure she hadn’t lost their tail but she hazarded a stop at a safehouse anyway. It was Damian’s, because Checkmate would have their eye on all of her own. He might be alerted when she used it, but that could be a good thing: that way he would know something was wrong, and to be careful.

       Stopping the motorcycle and getting off, she almost went straight to the computer hub to see what she could do. Then she stopped herself, and turned around.

       “You OK?” she asked. Mar’i was still on the bike.

       The other woman leaned back slightly, grimacing as if in pain. “Not really,” she said. “My back hurts.”

       Lian was taken aback at the stark honestly. “OK,” she said, uncertainly. “Um…I might be able to find you a cold press?”

       “That would be good,” answered Mar’i, rubbing her lower back. “Oh! Some of that Icy-Hot stuff would be perfect right now.”

       Lian narrowed her eyes slightly, watching the other woman, baffled. “I’ll check the First Aid kit,” she said, going to the computer hub, beneath which the kit was located. Kneeling down, she pulled it out, rifling through its contents.

       While Lian did so, Mar’i gingerly stepped off the motorcycle, then went over to the seat before the computer, and plonked down in it. Trying not to glance up at the woman in bewildered contempt, Lian pulled something out of the First Aid kit, and held it up to Mar’i. “Perfect,” she purred – and she did seem to _purr_ it, way down in her chest. “Can you help me-?”

       Mar’i turned, and removed her shirt. Lian blinked, then pressed the compress to the warm skin of Mar’i’s back. “There?” she asked.

       “Little further down,” Mar’i replied. Lian pressed it again, and Mar’i said, “Right there. Thank you.” Then Lian stripped the plastic off, and applied it to the other woman’s hot, golden skin. There was silence, except for the gentle crinkle of the medical patch. Then Mar’i said, “I’m sorry about what happened to your home.”

       Lian shrugged. “It was just a house,” she said. “I haven’t lived there in a long time.”

       Mar’i gathered her hair in her hands, exposing the length of her spine up her neck. “I hope your father is all right,” she said quietly.

       “Oh, don’t worry about him,” Lian replied, pressing the patch down, ensuring its adhesion. “He’s got STAR behind him, and Grampa Ollie… the Justice League, if need be…”

       She was quiet for a long time. Lian was finished, and she took her hands away. Mar’i did not seem to notice, or make any movement to replace her shirt. Then she asked, staring blankly the other way: “Why were those people after me?”

       “I don’t know,” replied Lian, honestly. “They might think you’re a threat.”

       Mar’i turned around to look Lian in the eye. “Why?” she asked.

       Again, Lian shrugged. “I don’t know,” she repeated. “They don’t understand you, and that scares them.”

       Her eyes shone, as if pulsing gently. “I don’t see why they don’t understand me,” she murmured. “I’m not the only alternate-universe half-human half-Tamaranean in the world, am I?”

       It took Lian a moment to realize that was a joke; then she laughed, and Mar’i did as well, and it was tinkling and rich and Lian could have listened to that laugh forever. “Sorry to say, Mar’i,” said Lian. “But I’ve got some bad news for you.”

       After another moment, still holding her hair across her bare chest, Mar’i asked seriously, “You knew them?”

       “Yes,” answered Lian.

       “Who were they?”

       Lian just shook her head.

       Mar’i took this, and it didn’t seem to bother her as much as Lian had anticipated. She put her shirt back on, then lithely slipped into the air, gesturing for Lian to take her seat. “Was that Rose Wilson?” Mar’i asked.

       “Yes,” Lian answered.

       “What happened to her eye?”

       “I don’t know,” said Lian again, turning on the computers. “It was a long time ago. Now hold on for just a minute, OK? I need to figure out our next move.”

       “If they come after us,” began Mar’i protectively, straightening up, “I can take care of them.”

       “No, it’s all right,” said Lian. She flipped through files on the computer, scanning down her options. Then she sighed and turned around in the seat. “Don’t make me regret this,” she said aloud, but Mar’i got the feeling she wasn’t speaking to her. “But…you were right. We should’ve gone with you last night.” She paused, glancing around her. Then, tentatively, she asked, “…Irey?”

       From out of nowhere, something seemed to vibrate within the small safehouse, and a moment later Iris West stood there, hair short and ginger-red, grinning back at her.

       Darkly, Lian said, “You could’ve helped us out earlier, you know.”

       Sounding pleased, Irey replied, “You did fine on your own. Plus I thought you didn’t want me involved.”

       “We do,” said Mar’i suddenly, descending from above them, eyes wide, staring at Irey. “Thank X’hal you’re here, Iris. I’ve been waiting for you.”

       Iris nodded, reaching out, gripping Mar’i’s arm in support. “I’ve been waiting for you, too,” she said. “I’m so sorry, Mar’i. If it could have been…any other way.”

       Suddenly, Mar’i’s eyes were full of tears, refracting the green light of her eyes. She pressed her hand over her mouth, grief rising in an interminable wave. In horror, she whispered, “So it’s true.”

       “Yes,” replied Iris, nodding her head. She no longer smiled. Again, she said, “I’m sorry, Mar’i.”

       Lian glanced between the two women cautiously, unsure of what exactly was going on.

       “Your family,” said Iris, bluntly, “is dead. Your universe is gone. Permanently.” She hesitated, and then, uncharacteristic pain in her eyes, she said: “And it’s our fault.”

 


	5. SPIRIT IN THE SKY

_When I die and they lay me to rest_   
_Gonna go to the place that's the best_   
_When I lay me down to die_   
_Goin' up to the spirit in the sky_

\----

       Mar’i hung in the air above them, silently, as Iris looked up at her, and began to explain.

       “I’m not the same person that you knew,” she told Mar’i, her voice strong, buzzy slightly, somehow, as always. “But I know her,” she continued. “I could feel her out there somewhere, like vibrations on the strings of the universe.”

       “Iris,” said Lian, loud enough that Irey glanced around to look at her, to meet her gaze. “Did you bring her here?” she asked.

       “I told you,” said Mar’i again. “Nobody brought me here-”

       “How did you escape, then?” asked Lian, watching the alien, her golden skin and green eyes glowing. “No, just tell me – why did you escape? What happened to your world? And why the hell,” she demanded, looking back at the red-haired woman, “is it our fault?”

       For a moment, Iris said nothing, staring back at Lian, who did not look away. Then, her gaze flickered away, and she raised her hands slightly into the air. Her whole body shimmered, as if she were only half-there, and then, suddenly, a great, sickening drop tugged in Lian’s stomach, and everything disappeared for a split second – when light flooded into her eyes again, she felt ill and dizzy, as if she’d been spun on a merry-go-round. The place where she stood was different now, darker, colder, and after another disoriented moment, she recognized it – the damaged computer, what could be bloodstains on the ground. Across from her, Mar’i fell to her knees, vomiting on the floor.

       Ignoring Iris and ignoring the hot anger rising in her belly, Lian went straight to the other woman, helping her onto her feet and onto the seat before the busted computer’s controls. Holding onto Mar’i’s arm tightly, voice low and burning, Lian asked, “Why did you bring us here?”

       Iris glanced around at her. It was a cold, sterile, Spartan place, build with gray sheets of metal drilled into the walls. Somehow, the hole that had been blasted in the side of the mountain almost a decade ago had been repaired. Despite that, Lian still somehow suspected that no one had been inside the old safehouse for years.

       Once, it belonged to the Teen Titans; in the low foothills, just far enough from the Tower to feel like they were getting away without actually getting far enough that they couldn’t return on a moment’s notice. They’d built it by hand. Damian had funded it, Milagro and Chris had done most of the heavy lifting, Jai had configured the tech. They had been sixteen and the children of giants, but they created something all by themselves.

       It had only been a few years later that Lian stood in the cold safehouse and shot Damian in the chest, stomped on his face, and nearly killed him. She’d been drugged by her own mother, but she could remember it, every blow, every pulse of hatred in the pit of her stomach. They’d never really talked about it, about the pain she’d caused – the pain they’d caused each other, as children – but she knew he remembered, and she remembered too. Maybe more viscerally than he would, she hated the place.

       “This place,” Iris replied, as Mar’i’s breathing became steady again, “is practically untraceable. I couldn’t think of anywhere else.”

       “STAR is probably-”

       “STAR isn’t your concern right now,” said Iris, speaking over her blankly. “We have more important priorities.”

       “Like what?” demanded Lian, raising her voice. Iris did not look around. She hardly moved. With one hand still protectively on Mar’i’s shoulder, Lian continued, “You’ve been talking in riddles this whole time, Irey, and I’m getting sick of it. If you can help us – if you can help Mar’i – then say what you need to say. If you can’t, well,” she shook her head, “just leave us alone.”

       Iris didn’t move.

       And then her hands lifted up once more, and Lian clenched her stomach-

       But then the dark safehouse lit up as if with daylight, bright yellow sparks like lightning filling up the small room, shining bright, reflecting off the dull metal around them. Iris spread her hands in the air, and shapes began to appear in the lightning, a massive set of orbs, huge and thin and stretching like the shadows of neurons.

       “This,” said Iris, her voice quiet, but somehow loud and booming through the crackling electricity in the room, “was the Multiverse.”

       Lian stared. The globe was shifting, moving, lights blinking brighter and darker, colder. She did not realize that Mar’i had reached up and squeezed her hand until the pressure disappeared, and Mar’i lifted into the air, hovering before the electric mass.

       Voice high and faint, Mar’i asked: “Was?”

       At this, Iris nodded grimly. She moved her hands, manipulating the golden lightning; the globe flattening immediately, spinning like a huge wheel. “Four years ago – in our dimension, that is, time is different in others – something snapped.”

       No longer watching the construction before them, eyes focused on Iris, Lian said, “You mean what Damian did.”

       Iris nodded, looking back at the other woman. Above them, Mar’i reached out, touched the lightning with her fingers. It did not harm her. “Or didn’t do,” she said simply. Then, gazing back at the electric constructions, she explained, “All I know is that the reverberations came from a fixed point – Damian. Our Damian, in this universe.” She hesitated. “They were bad,” she said. “I was gone for a long time trying to find a way to fix it. I was desperate. I would have done anything to stabilize our universe, to stop the ringing in my ears. I could feel it – like a spider on a web. Every vibration shook my very molecules.”

       The golden wheel spun above them, very slowly, like a galaxy.

       “That’s why I woke Jai,” Iris continued. “I thought he might be able to help me get everything under control.”

       “He did,” said Lian. “He brought you back down, in the end.”

       “Yes, but,” Iris said, something that might have been regret in her voice, “by then…it was too late.”

       In air, Mar’i twisted her back to look down at Iris.

       Iris continued, “To stabilize our universe, I found the Speed Force – and I took it, subsumed it into my body. It’s how I can go so fast. It’s how I can do all this,” she waved at the room, lit up with electricity, “and how I can be everywhere at once. But what I didn’t tell you…” The wheel stopped turning. Iris said: “It’s not just one string, Lian. It’s the whole thing. The entire Speed Force, the constant throughout every world in the Multiverse. That’s what I have inside of me. I had to do it to stabilize our universe. Otherwise, we would have collapsed.”

       Mar’i lowered back to the ground. “So?” she asked. “What does that mean? Why was my universe destroyed?”

       When Iris spoke again, it was not without gentleness. “Because,” she said, “when I did that, I placed my world at the center of the Multiverse.” Something sheared off the spinning wheel; it seemed old-fashioned now, as if made of wood, the spokes spiraling around the center. “Our earth,” she continued, “is the axis upon which the rest of the Multiverse spins. When I took the Speed Force for myself, in order to save our universe – I destabilized all the others. I doomed them. And I didn’t even give it a second thought.”

       She did not seem guilty; in fact, her tone was so belligerent than it seemed to Lian that she was trying to goad Mar’i into a reaction. Mar’i had none. But then she rose into the air again, moved forward, and reached out to brush her hands along the outer edge of the giant wheel. Somewhere there, Lian thought, was her home.

       “Something’s wrong, though,” said Iris.

       Lian’s gaze snapped over to her. “Wrong?” she repeated. “What do you mean?”

       Iris shook her head, eyes narrowed at the light before them. “There’s something in the Multiverse,” she continued, “some point which doesn’t fit right, something decaying. It’s rotten, and it needs to be removed. It’s an anomaly, and the worlds will bend themselves backwards to fix it.”

       “What kind of anomaly?” demanded Lian. “Is this about whatever Damian did?”

       Iris’s gaze slid over to Lian. She said, “I don’t know for sure,” and she may not have, but Lian felt sick in her chest as she realized that Iris made her say it first. “But the Multiverse is starting to corrode. Universes are beginning to pop out of existence, one by one.” In the wheel before them, spokes began to flicker, and disappear. “The Multiverse is tearing itself apart in an attempt to correct the anomaly. And if enough of the wheel is destroyed…” They fell like teeth out of a mouth now, and Mar’i darted down, tried to catch one, but it turned into nothing but emptiness in her hands. Lian knew that Iris was watching her, but kept her eyes focused on the alien, “…then the axis will fall, too.”

       With a great flash of bright light, the center of the crackling wheel dropped – Mar’i, underneath the thing, screamed – and then it was gone, and the darkness was such that Lian had to blink carefully a few times, trying to get her vision back after the bright lights that had just been before them.

        In the blink of an eye, hardly moving, Iris instantly stood right before Lian. She held her hands out, holding a miniature version of the lightning wheel between her palms. Quietly, she continued, “And I’m not the only one holding the cards, Lian.”

       The other woman watched her worriedly as Mar’i alit on the ground beside them. “What does that mean?” Lian asked.

       “I told you,” Iris said, “someone’s plucking at the strings of the Multiverse. Someone on another dimensional plane – not a universe parallel to ours, but somewhere – in between.”

       Lian blinked at this. “In between universes?”

       “Like a pocket dimension?” offered Mar’i helpfully. “A trans-dimensional plane?”

       Iris, about to say something, stopped and looked at Mar’i. Mar’i looked back. After another moment, she continued, “…Yes. Maybe. Something like that. Something that didn’t always used to be there, that got forged when the universal anomaly happened. It’s what’s holding us all together now – like the mortar between bricks, or spokes on a wheel. Whatever it is, exactly, it’s a place I can’t get to without help.”

       “What kind of help?” asked Lian.

       Wordlessly, Iris’s eyes flickered past her, back to where Mar’i stood. Mar’i glanced between the two of them. “Me?” she asked, uncertainly. “Why me?”

       “Your bond to this universe,” Iris said, “is not yet fully solid. You crossed through this Betweenspace to get here. I think you may be able to call it back, or at least open a door, so I can find out who else is manipulating the Multiverse, and why.”

       Mar’i thought about this for a long moment, eyeing Iris. And then she asked: “If I do this for you…would this power, whoever or whatever it may be…would it be able to get me my universe back?”

       “No,” answered Iris shortly. “Even if it could, it wouldn’t be possible without the destruction of our own. And I’m not about to let that happen, Mar’i.”

       Although she agreed with Iris, Lian couldn’t help but feel this was harsh; Mar’i, however, did not break into tears, or otherwise give any indication of hurt. Instead, she only asked, “But if this works. Do you think we could stop the destruction of any more worlds?”

       “If I’m right,” replied Iris, “then yes. I think we can.”

       There was a pause between them all. Then, slowly, Mar’i nodded. “I understand,” she said. “I’ll help you however I can.” Then she added, “But, if you’re relying on the fact that my I’m not completely connected to this universe, you should know – my body’s been realigning since I got here, and it’s been almost a month. I’m not much different from one of you already, I don’t know how much longer it’ll be until I lose that connection – or, disconnection, I suppose.”

       Iris considered this, glancing down at Mar’i’s body, as if observing her. “I see it happening,” she said. “Like you’re becoming more solid. Every single second.” Her eyes flickered back to the alien’s own gaze, and she asked, “Do you have any idea how to slow it down?”

       “No,” answered Mar’i, shaking her head. “But I had a doctor, back at STAR. Her name was Niloufar Ghorbani. She was in charge of the research surrounding my body, and she might have a clue. She has a better understanding of the whole process than any of us do, anyhow.”

       “STAR is out of the question,” said Iris, shaking her head. “They can’t keep any secrets anymore, not with how badly they’ve been infiltrated by Checkmate.”

       “Checkmate doesn’t own them,” said Lian, with little conviction.

       Iris’s gaze snapped over to her. As if trying to be sympathetic, and yet obviously failing, she asked, “Did you think you were the only agent tasked with keeping an eye on STAR Labs, Lian?”

       Mar’i looked back and forth between the two women. “Checkmate?” she echoed. “You work for Checkmate?”

       “I take their missions,” Lian replied, only glancing at Mar’i, “when I agree with them, that is.”

       For a second, Mar’i said nothing. And then her face split into a grin and she said, “I think that makes you a very bad agent.”

       After a moment’s hesitation, Lian returned the smile, although sheepishly. There was something about the warmth in Mar’i’s face that made her feel – not cautious, but a little uncertain, a little unsure. It was not at all professional, and she knew it, and she hoped Mar’i couldn’t read the shyness betrayed by the slight pink flush in her cheeks. “Doctor Ghorbani isn’t even technically with STAR,” Lian said, tearing her gaze away from Mar’i. “I think she’d be willing to help us.”

       Iris considered this. Her short hair, a deep ginger red, seemed more like a dark brown in the low light around them. But her green-brown eyes crackled and sparked with the electricity behind them. “Neither of you can go back there,” she said. “I could get her, but the second she went missing, they’d suspect something. And just because you trust her doesn’t mean she wouldn’t give our position away, especially if we abducted her.”

       Producing a communicator, Lian asked, “So what you’re saying is, we need a non-suspicious third party to get her to agree with helping us in our clandestine, Multiverse-saving mission?”

       With something like a shrug, Iris nodded. “Something like that.”

       Lian flashed a beautiful, charming smile, and hit a button on her comm. “I can do that.”

       She put the thing to her ear as Iris leaned forward, reaching out. “Who are you-?”

       “Hey, D,” said Lian, batting Iris’s hand away, speaking into the comm.

       “What are you doing?” Iris hissed, real anger sparking in her eyes. “He’s bound to be under serious surveillance by now-”

       “Iris, please,” said Lian, pushing her away, lowering the comm, “this is Damian we’re talking about.” Then she went back to the small phone, and continued, “I am, but it’s fine. Listen, you know your team back in Gotham? Yeah. I need to contact Niloufar’s girlfriend, the Amazon.” She paused as he replied, then said, “Right. Niloufar’s partner.” She rolled her eyes and said, “I promise I’ll fill you in the second this starts concerning you. Please just do what I ask right now, OK?”

        She lowered the comm, then turned back around to face the other two women, and smiled. “That’s that taken care of,” she said.

       It was hardly an hour later that they opened the doors to the safehouse, and Niloufar Ghorbani walked in, carrying a small bag over her shoulder and pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose. Above her, Jordan Joyce hovered in the darkness, xyr long hair softly swinging in the wind. As the door closed behind them, Niloufar stopped, and so did Jordan.

       “Hi,” said Lian. “Thanks for coming.”

       At first, Niloufar didn’t react. And then she removed the bag from her shoulder, and tossed it forwards, towards Mar’i. “I brought your suit,” she said. “STAR thinks I’m taking a well-needed vacation with the love of my life.” Above her, Jordan smiled just a little bit, and no one but Mar’i caught it. Niloufar eyed the three of them, gaze lingering suspiciously on Iris, whom she did not know. “Now,” she said, sounding very cool, reflecting Jordan’s calm, controlled stance of casual power above her, “why am I here, and what the hell does the Multiverse have to do with it?”

       This time, Iris did not recreate the electric Multiverse for them; she hung in the back, silent, as Lian explained. Mar’i slipped back into the uniform she had been wearing when she arrived in this universe, which had been kept by STAR Labs.

       “Hold on,” said Jordan, floating in air, legs crossed. Nodding at Mar’i, xe asked, “When did she start dating Robin? He’s still seeing Ellen.”

       “No, he’s not,” said Niloufar, rolling her eyes slightly at xyr. “They broke up years ago, Jordan.”

       “Well, I mean, yeah, technically. But everybody knows that’s where the pieces are gonna fall, in the end.”

       “That’s optimistic,” said Iris, arms folded. “Damian doesn’t have a great record when it comes to making up.” She stood leaning against the busted control panel, her form flickering intensely every few seconds. “But it sounds like you’re missing the point here.”

       Looking up at them, Jordan said, “Hold on…have all three of you dated Damian?”

       Shaking her head passionately, Lian began to deny this, but then Niloufar reached up and flicked her datefriend in the foot, the only part of xyr she could reach. “No, come on.” Pointing at Mar’i, Niloufar said, “She dated alternate-universe Damian.”

       Jordan scrutinized Mar’i carefully. “So,” xe said, “you’re from an alternate universe?”

       “I was, yes,” answered Mar’i. “I got out before it was destroyed.”

       “And you got here…” continued Jordan, eyes narrowed slightly in thought; xe drifted in the air haphazardly, slowly turning upside-down, legs still crossed before xyr, “…because we’re the center of the universe?”

       Nodding, Mar’i answered, “The center of the Multiverse, yes. Since the destabilization of the Multiverse, your universe has been at the center.” She glanced back at Lian and Iris, almost as if in confirmation, then continued, “Something like an Earth-Prime, or Earth-1.”

       “Ay, hold on,” said Jordan doubtfully. “Before that bullshit happened, we were just a regular universe, right?”

       This time, Lian returned Mar’i’s questioning gaze. “Yes,” said Lian, but it sounded a little like a question. “I think so.”

       “So we were just like any other universe,” Jordan continued. Xe was completely upside-down now, xyr long hair falling down, reaching towards the floor. “Could’ve been Earth-2, Earth-4, five, six, thirteen, fourteen, twenty-eight, twenty-nine…” xe did not move, xyr gray eyes flat and steely, staring at Mar’i. “What,” xe asked, “makes us so special?”

       “I do,” said Iris.

       They all glanced around at her.

       She stood up straight, and said, “When I felt this universe beginning to break, I took action. I saved it. I did what needed to be done.” She watched them for a moment fiercely, daring them to challenge her. “If someone else, in some other universe somewhere could’ve done it, then they would’ve. They didn’t, I did. I saved you. Me. I did that.” She paused. It was then that Lian realized how still the other woman was, how oddly, freakishly unmoving she was. “You should be grateful.”

       There was a silence. Jordan and Niloufar exchanged glances.

       “Iris,” said Mar’i. In the dark, her golden skin glowed brilliantly, her green eyes pulsing with light and power. For one moment, she said nothing. “If you had saved my love or my child,” she said quietly, her voice bursting with emotion, “maybe I would begin to feel gratitude for what you’ve done.”

       She stood there for a moment longer, the tears welling in her eyes shining and refracting with green light. And then she swept away from the place, shooting through the air; she shot starbolts straight through the side of the safehouse, and disappeared, leaving them standing there without her.

       Wearily, Jordan looked down at them for a minute, then dipped down, brushed xyr fingers along Niloufar’s shoulder, then swiftly shot out of the crater Mar’i had forged, following her into the early dawn. Niloufar knelt down beside the bag she’d brought, from which Mar’i had extracted her suit. “You should know,” she said, without looking up, rooting through medical equipment. “You brought me here to do an impossible job.”

       Lian watched her for a second, then moved forward and knelt as well, looking down at her hands rooting around the bag. “We’ve seen a lot of impossible things in the past few hours,” she murmured, without catching Niloufar’s eye. “We could do with a miracle, Doctor.”

       “A miracle?” repeated Niloufar doubtfully, finally glancing up at her. “I’m not getting the impression your fearless leader over there,” she glanced up at Iris, “is really in it to save any other universes, Agent Harper.” She looked down, once more, into the bag. “I don’t think we’re saving the world,” she muttered. “I think we’re committing xenocide.”

       At first, Lian had nothing to say to that. But then: “I wouldn’t call them aliens. All Earths, just in different dimensions.”

       Niloufar glanced up to meet her gaze. “Excellent,” she said dryly. “Since genocide is so much better.”

       Lian didn’t know how to reply, so she stood up and stepped away. Iris was no longer there. Jordan returned, swooping in from the gaping hole, through which misty gray light filtered in. “She’s not far,” xe said, lying in air, back curved as if xe were reclining in a hammock. “Just watching the sunrise. She’ll be back soon.”

       In an hour, Mar’i had not returned. Niloufar and Jordan stayed in the main hub of the place; Lian realized for the first time that the place had no capability for sustained living, no bedrooms, no bathrooms. The team, teenagers that they had been, hadn’t taken long-term commitments into consideration at all. In retrospect, this did not surprise her. By that time, the sun had risen above the horizon, and Lian, leaving her guests alone, opened the doors and went out to the trees and low grasses outside of the safehouse. Beside a tall black oak, Mar’i Grayson sat on the ground, holding her knees, looking up at the clouds.

       Lian padded through the low green grass. She stopped beside Mar’i, peering up through the long branches of the oak tree. Slowly, she lowered herself to the ground, and sat beside the other woman. Mar’i didn’t move for a long moment.

       “I’ll help you,” said Mar’i.

       She wiped her eyes.

       “Ibn,” she said. With some great difficulty, she corrected herself: “…Damian. Does he…” she trailed off, and then she looked at Lian, exposing the tears streaking down her golden skin. “Does he have a son, in this world?”

       Lian watched her, eyes dry. She shook her head.

       Mar’i tilted her head back, staring up once more at the sky. “It would be easier,” she murmured, “to think I was doing it for them.”

       “You are,” said Lian. She watched Mar’i’s face, the nose and lips that were all Kory, the heavy brow of her father. “I’m sure there are a thousand different universes where you two are together, Mar’i. A million. When we find this – Betweenspace, or whatever it is, then it’ll stop whatever’s destabilizing the Multiverse, and a hundred thousand million versions of you, your husband, and your son will be alive, because of you.”

       It was then that Lian became aware Mar’i’s eyes were closed.

       “We weren’t married,” she said, her voice steady again. The tears tracked on her cheeks, but no more fell from her eyes. Her fingers circled around a knuckle on her left hand. “I don’t even have a ring.”

       Lian said nothing. She leaned in, sweeping Mar’i’s hair back to curl her arm around the back of her neck. “I know it’s a poor replacement,” she said, then she held out her own hand, on which there rested several simple rings, mostly gifts from her father when he hadn’t known what to get her, and had defaulted on weaponry and jewelry. Wiggling her fingers, she said, “But you can have one of mine whenever you want. If that would make you feel better.”

       Mar’i looked down at the rings before her. Then she looked beside her at Lian. This close, Lian could see the reflective golden sheen of her skin, so unearthly, but so profoundly natural.

        Something seemed to pulse behind Mar’i’s bright green eyes, and then she leaned forward, and she kissed Lian, and her mouth tasted sweet.

 


	6. KASHMIR

_All I see turns to brown, as the sun burns the ground_   
_And my eyes fill with sand, as I scan this wasted land_   
_Trying to find, trying to find where I've been_

\----

       “First thing’s first,” said Niloufar smartly; she sat in the seat before the busted computer hub, which Jordan was inspecting, occasionally poking at the wires. As Lian and Mar’i returned, making their way back into the compound, Niloufar turned in her seat to speak to them. “We can’t stay here,” she continued, peering at the two women through her framed glasses. “I’m going to need some pretty complex equipment if we’re actually going to try and _stop_ Mar’i from healing.”

       “I’m not sure it’s really healing,” Mar’i replied, green eyes flashing. “More like…realignment.”

       “It’s adaptation,” said Niloufar simply, “in order to keep your body running. Disrupting it means disrupting your body’s processes. I’m clear on what I’m supposed to be doing. I need you to be as well.”

       Lian glanced in between the two women. Mar’i nodded, her face steely with determination. Then Lian ventured, “You’re right that we need to find somewhere else to stay, somewhere more long term. But Iris should be able to supply you with whatever tools you need.”

       Looking up from the computer, Jordan asked, “And what about what she needs?”

       Unsure, Lian tugged her gaze away from Niloufar, to the Amazon. “What do you mean?” she asked.

       Jordan shrugged. “Whatever it is that Miss Flash needs. To get to, I don’t know, wherever she needs to go. What’s the plan there?” When Lian did not immediately reply, continuing to look uncertain, Jordan rolled xyr eyes and said, “Look, if she could get us there as is, we’d be there already, boom, problem solved. Obviously she’s out looking for something.”

       Niloufar looked back at Lian, almost smugly. “Xe’s right,” she said. “And, just a general question – why are we trusting someone who’s only telling us half of what she knows?”

       Before Lian could reply to this – but whether sympathetically or indignantly, she hadn’t yet decided – the roaring sounds of a motorcycle approaching tore through the peaceful morning silence. This safehouse was fairly well hidden in the dense undergrowth of the foothills, but then again, there was a giant, gaping hole in the side of what was supposed to be a natural knoll, so Lian had to doubt that they were as safe as they could be.

       There was no reason that Iris would use a motorbike, but something else occurred to her as she lowered her voice, urgently pointing Niloufar and Jordan towards the garage underneath the main hub, telling them to hide. “They know I took her,” she whispered, nodding towards Mar’i, “but they don’t know you’re helping us, if they find you-”

       Niloufar didn’t need any more convincing; she took Jordan’s hand and disappeared, just as the rumbling sounds of the motorbike stopped. Turning to Mar’i, Lian pointed at her carefully and mouthed: “Don’t move.” Then she headed to the safehouse’s exit. Glancing back at Mar’i, who nodded solemnly, hovering just above the seat, she reached out to enter the password on the keypad by the door.

       Then a familiar voice said, “Whoa-oh! Look at that. Ha-ha. Damn.”

       Lian froze, blinked, and then abandoned the keypad, slipping over to the huge crater blasted through steel. “Oh my God,” she said, looking out at whomever was on the other side. “Dick?”

       Cheerfully, Dick waved at her from over three feet’s worth of torn metal. Gesturing to the fixture at large, he asked, “Do you have a door anywhere around here? Or is that why you blasted the hole?”

       She nodded sideways, hurried to the door, and opened it for him. When he entered, he immediately greeted her with a hug; he smelled like soap and cologne and Chapstick, exactly like he used to, when she was a kid. “To be fair,” she said, grinning at him and pulling away, “ _I_ didn’t blast the hole.”

       He laughed at this, and then, hands still on her arms, he said, “You look great, Lian. Wow. Still can’t believe you’re that same tiny baby I mom’d for all those years.”

       Although there was still a smile on her face, she raised her eyebrows at him. “ _You_ mom’d me? Donna mom’d me, you just brought candy and had one night stands with my dad.”

       Another laugh, and this one was loud and sincere. “Oh, wow,” he said, wiping fake tears from his eyes. “Y’know, I really miss the days when you were too young to understand the nature of that relationship.”

       This was when he glanced up, past Lian, at the woman hovering behind her. Before Dick could say anything, Lian held a hand up, and said, “You trust me. Right?” Cautiously, he met her gaze, and nodded. “And you know that I trust you?” Again, he nodded, but he watched her, brow furrowed, waiting for her to complete her thought. Almost (but not quite) apologetically, she said, “Then you have to know I have a really good reason for asking this, but: why are you here?”

       Hiking the backpack he wore up his shoulders, without looking back at Mar’i, he said warily, “Damian sent me. He said that you needed help with something, but he couldn’t take off.”

       Before Dick could continue, she asked, “Did he say why?”

       Dick shook his head. After another second it occurred to Lian that she couldn’t be too tight, too controlled, too cold with Dick – he knew her as a kid. A Titan, maybe, but if still thought he was the adult and she was the child, then she had no desire to enter the inescapable dance she’d already started with her father, always skirting along the edge of _I know there’s something you’re not telling me_ , but never quite reaching _You have to let me in_. At least, not in any spoken terms.

       So she smiled at him, shyly because she hadn’t seen him for a long time. Dick said, “He said someone was in danger, but he didn’t say who, if that’s what you’re asking.”

       _It’s not_ , she thought, suppressing a grimace at his expense. Out had come the kid gloves, and, really, there were a hundred options out there, had Damian _had_ to choose Dick? Once more, the man’s eyes traveled over Lian’s shoulder to the other woman. Maybe she wasn’t being entirely fair to Damian. She hadn’t told him about Mar’i. “So why did he send you?” asked Lian, physically moving her head to take back Dick’s gaze. “To fight off all the bad guys?”

       “Are you kidding?” replied Dick mildly. “He sent me because he thought you’d want a safehouse with an actual functional computer, and, well, I’m guessing one without a giant hole in the wall, too.” He grinned and winked at her, then said, “Just a little conspicuous, if you ask me.”

       Lian hated it when men winked at her. “Any reason why he didn’t just send the coordinates directly to me?”

       “Did you _miss_ the part when I said he couldn’t come out here himself?” Dick asked her. He started to shift on his feet slightly, and she knew that he was getting restless and wanted to address the woman behind her, or do something other than stand there and get interrogated. “He’s being watched. Communicating with you was risky, communicating with me was not. OK?”

       Had Dick been her father, she would have sneered, “Don’t OK me-” but he wasn’t, and it was probably a better idea to keep him firmly on her side. “OK,” she said, hating the assent as it slipped past her lips. “Well, then, I’m glad you’re here. You can give me the coordinates right now.”

       He watched her for a moment, and then unshouldered his backpack, unzipped it, and reached inside. He tugged out a plastic bag with a Subway logo stamped onto it. “I brought lunch,” he said simply.

       Finally, Lian relented. She took the bag full of sandwiches right out of his hand and turned around, jerking her head to indicate he follow her. Mar’i stood on the ground now, behind the computer hub’s seat. “Dick,” said Lian, without glancing back at him. “This is my friend.”

       She had avoided saying Mar’i’s name, leaving it up to the other woman to decide how to introduce herself. Hopefully Mar’i had taken the hint that she would much prefer if she did not reveal her parentage. “Hello,” said Dick, dropping his backpack on the chair and then holding out a hand to Mar’i. “Dick’s my name, she’s not just being mean to me.” He grinned that irresistibly friendly grin, and Mar’i returned it, and Lian hated how obvious their relation was.

       Graciously, she took his hand. “My name is Nightstar,” she said. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Dick.”

       “Likewise,” he told her. Nodding at her chest, he added, “I like your costume.”

       She smiled, flattered, but Lian felt her heart stop and restart. The deep purple V on Mar’i’s suit mirrored that of Dick’s old Nightwing costume: a homage, obviously, to her father. “Thank you,” she said. Returning the compliment, she said, “I like your civilian wear, although I suspect you think that motorcycle jacket is much cooler than it actually is.”

       Dick let out a hearty laugh, looking over at Lian. “Oh, great,” he said, grinning easily. “That’s the same thing Damian said.” Without waiting for Lian to reply, he looked back at Mar’i and said, “Your eyes are beautiful. I hope you don’t mind me asking, are you Tamaranean, by any chance?”

       Nodding, pleased, she said, “I am.” Again with the grin; resignedly, Lian conceded it wasn’t going anywhere. Dick said something in a language that Lian did not know, and Mar’i looked absolutely delighted, and instantly replied in the same foreign tongue. They both laughed.  “I haven’t spoken Tamaranean in a very long time,” she said gratefully, in English again. “Thank you.”

       “Yeah,” he replied, nodding at her. “Neither have I, to be honest. Probably shows, my accent was never all that good anyway.” He laughed again.

       Suspiciously, Lian glanced in between the two of them. This was beginning to edge into flirting territory, and she was _sure_ the Multiverse had some kind of rules about that.

       Maybe the expression on her face was too readable, but Dick seemed to get the vibe as well. Gesturing at the Subway bag, he said, “I won’t stay for lunch, I know this isn’t a social call. But you guys need to eat while you’re running from whatever governmental organization it is this time, so I brought an Italian, a Veggie Delite because you never know who’s eating meat and who’s not this week, and a ham and turkey.” He smiled at Lian, but it was a much smaller smile than she was used to. “Because that’s your favorite,” he said to her.

       It bothered her, the way he was looking at her, like she was twelve years old. She didn’t want to hurt him, but she’d moved away from home years ago, and hadn’t really been comfortable being treated like a daughter since. “My favorite,” she said, not unkindly, “back when I was seven.”

       He shrugged. It was a sad shrug, and she instantly felt bad. “I knew you pretty well,” he said, “back when you were seven.”

       There was an instant pause of discomfort.

       Dick continued, “Anyway, Damian made it sound like it was more than the two of you, but it’s not like I’m asking any questions.”

       Mar’i had moved closer to him, and every moment she watched him intently, a bright smile on her face, Lian worried that Dick would begin to see the undeniable resemblance between them. Lian kept slightly back, arms folded. “So let me get this straight,” she said. “Damian called you, said we needed some help, and you drove all the way across the country to California at his beck and call? _And_ you picked up lunch?”

       “Yeah, I did,” he said, looking at her. There was something almost like a dare in his expression. She retracted slightly at that. It was not the first time that she had underestimated Damian’s relationship with his eldest brother. “But,” he added, “I didn’t drive all the way here, Lian.” He took something out of his pocket, then tossed it to Lian, who caught it: a set of high-tech laser-encoded keys. With a pleased little grin, Dick said, “Heard you ladies needed a ride.”

       She stared at him.

       With a shrug, empty palms upturned in the air, he asked, “Hey, what kind of ex-Batman would I be if I didn’t have a bunch of spare Batplanes at my disposal? It’s parked outside. Cloaked and untraceable, via Oracle’s networks.”

       Although she didn’t say anything, this seemed to satisfy Lian. She took the keys. Lowly, she said, “I’m sorry I don’t have the time to be friendly, Dick. I really am.”

       “Hey,” he said, holding up his hands. “Don’t apologize to me. I’ve been in the business long enough to know when an emergency’s an emergency, and when you have to keep some things to yourself.” Feigning severity, he narrowed his eyes and said, “Just don’t be too much of a stranger, young lady. Whenever you need help, you know where to look.”

       The expression on his face was gentle and honest, and this time she couldn’t resist feeling a surge of affection for the man she knew so well. She reached out and, with a redemptive embrace, said, “Thanks, Dick. I appreciate that.” Then she pulled away and added sternly, “But don’t tell my dad. He’d just worry.”

       With a laugh, he nodded. “Got it,” he said. “Super top secret. Yes ma’am.” He gave a mock salute, then turned to the other woman. “Good meeting you, Nightstar,” he said. “I’m not actually sure which way is right to say goodbye in Tamaranean, I know one is the formal one and one is the intimate one, but I can’t remember which right now. I think -” he said something in that flowing and rich Tamaranean tongue, and Mar’i just watched him, her golden skin shining. “Was that right?”

       “Yes,” she said, quietly. “That’s correct.” She nodded, and repeated the farewell. Lian kissed his cheek and murmured something to him, and then, just as Dick turned to leave, Mar’i said suddenly, “D- Mister Grayson.”

       Dick paused, glancing back at her.

       Without looking away from him, her eyes big and round, she asked: “Do you know…Starfire?”

       Uncertain but still smiling, Dick looked to Lian for explanation. She had none. “Yeah,” he said. “I do. Are you looking for her? Are you…” he trailed off, searching for words, then continued, “Are you from a colony? Did her sister send you, or something?”

       Mar’i was shaking her head long before he had finished his questions. “No,” she said quietly. There was a tight smile on her lips. “No, I’m sorry. I just – wanted to know.” She repeated the Tamaranean farewell, but did not look away from him. After one more glance of confusion her way, Dick turned back to Lian and said goodbye to her, squeezing her hand reassuringly, and then he was heading out the door, back into the noontime sun.

       It was only then that Lian realized something was missing, and she called, “Dick, hold on-”

       He didn’t stop walking, but turned around to grin at her. “Coordinates for the safehouse are already programmed into the jet,” he called back at her. He beamed, waved, and turned back around, returning to his motorcycle.

       It was silent again. Once the roaring sounds of the motorcycle began to fade, Lian glanced over at Mar’i, who was still staring at the spot where Dick had left. Wordlessly, she reached out to take the other woman’s hand – but as soon as she touched her, she flinched her fingers away in pain, letting out a breathless, “ _Ouch_ -”

       Mar’i’s body, like molten gold, was burning hot. Lian wanted to say something to her but didn’t know what, so instead she awkwardly told her, “I’ll get Niloufar and Jordan,” and went down to the garage to fetch them. Not long afterwards, they were in the jet that Dick had left; Jordan floated in the air, sitting with xyr legs crossed, munching the Italian sub. Niloufar had claimed half of the Veggie Delite, and, after checking with Lian, Mar’i had taken half of the ham and turkey. It was a little surreal, Lian thought, to have this hodge-podge assembly of almost-heroes chewing on their lunch while Niloufar casually bounced ideas for halting Mar’i’s universal-realignment off the other woman. Lian stayed in the cockpit; as Dick had said, the coordinates were already programmed in, and she started the plane, then paused, idling there on the ground.

       And then someone entered the cockpit with her, warm hands brushing across her shoulders. “What is it?” asked Mar’i, peering at the controls. “Is everything all right?”

       At first, Lian didn’t answer this. Then, carefully, she said, “I was just…thinking. It’s been very quiet.”

       Eyebrows raised, Mar’i asked: “Isn’t that a good thing?”

       Lian looked down at the control panel before her, then up at the thick, shielded glass at the front of the plane. “I don’t know,” she admitted.

       Mar’i didn’t leave, and Lian got the distinct impression she was waiting. So, something feeling not-quite-right in her stomach, Lian began takeoff, fluid and silent thanks to Batman Inc. tech.

       From the cabin behind the cockpit, Jordan asked, “Hey, do you hear that?” and then, only partway into the air, there was a massive _BOOM_ and a blast that almost knocked them out of the sky; Mar’i was thrown off her feet, but immediately caught herself with flight, holding onto firmly onto the ceiling.

       “What was that?” shouted Niloufar, who had fortunately been buckled in. “ _What the hell was that?_ ”

       Mar’i was at the hatch: “Let me out!” she called, over the loud white noise as the jet struggled to gain air, “I’ll see what it is, let me out!”

       “Mar’i, no!” Lian barked in reply. “Jordan! Can you catch up with us if-?”

       “Yeah,” xe answered instantly, and xe gently but firmly tore Mar’i out of the way, and then opened the hatch, and threw xyrself out of the plane. Mar’i almost followed, but Lian shouted her name once more, angling the plane in a steep, rapid ascent.

       Despite this, the hatch remained open, and Mar’i hung before it, about to ignore Lian’s warning; then Niloufar, holding tightly to her seat straps, yelled, “Mar’i, stop! They’re looking for you, remember? I know you’re strong, but you’re not at full power, and whoever’s looking for you – STAR, Checkmate, whatever – this says to me that they’re ready to take you out, and we can’t risk that!”

       Mar’i didn’t move. Lian levelled the jet, and there was a cold, sucking wind coming from the hatch. Finally, Mar’i closed it, and then she alit softly on the deck of the plane. Then she sunk into a seat beside Niloufar, burying her face in her hands.

       Lian wished she could get up and comfort the other woman, but her hands were on the controls, and she was not confident they were out of danger yet.

       After a moment, Niloufar began – hesitantly, now, and that wasn’t something Lian had yet heard from the woman, “I can – communicate with Jordan. Xe’s still checking it out, but xe doesn’t have to board to let us know what’s up.”

       Glancing around at her, Lian asked, “You have a commlink?”

       Niloufar said nothing. Then she shook her head. “No,” she said. “But – I can talk to xyr. From, you know, mind-to-mind.”

       Lian raised an eyebrow. “Psychic?”

       “Something like that.”

       “I didn’t know that about you.”

       With a little nod, Niloufar muttered, “You’d be surprised.”

       “So?” asked Mar’i, looking up. “What happened?”

       Niloufar was silent for a moment, then began: “Jordan says the safehouse is absolutely destroyed. Obliterated. Nothing left.”

       Before Lian could reply, Mar’i asked, “Could xe discern a point of origin for the explosive?”

       This surprised Lian, because it was exactly what she was about to ask.

       “Local,” Niloufar replied. “On the ground, definitely not a missile or anything.” An almost awkward pause. “So,” continued Niloufar. “Someone had to plant it there.

       Lian said nothing, then let out a little groan. “Damn it,” she sighed.

       “What?” asked Mar’i, leaning forward, green eyes wide. “What is it?”

       “I thought there was something wrong,” Lian continued darkly. “When you called Dick Mr. Grayson – didn’t you see?”

       “See what?” asked Mar’i, sounding hurt.

       “Come on,” Lian replied, “He never told you his last name, Mar’i. He knew something was up.” She paused, then asked. “How much you want to bet Damian never even called him?”

       Aghast with the accusation, Mar’i asked, “What? You can’t be-” she broke off, and her eyes pulsed in anger, “-you can’t honestly suspect – my father wouldn’t do this-”

       “He’s not your father,” said Lian shortly.

       Mar’i didn’t reply. She suddenly became aware she had straightened up, and her toes hovered just above the ground. Once more, she sat down.

       “Hold on,” said Niloufar. “That doesn’t make sense. If the guy who was just here was trying to kill us, why would he supply us with a jet to get away?”

       “Exactly,” said Mar’i, almost proudly.

       “Unless,” said Lian; she stabilized the controls, flying through a low cloud cover, “he’s trying to scare us into trusting him.”

       Niloufar didn’t reply for a moment, then said: “Jordan says you’d have to be pretty jaded, to be thinking like that.”

       Lian took the jet into a swift, abrupt nosedive, jolting her passengers. She heard Niloufar lose her breath in the cabin, and then pulled up. “Sorry,” she said. “Air pocket.”

       At that moment, the jet lifted up in a sudden ascent, completely out of Lian’s controls. For a split second she panicked, and her mind instantly ran through a list – he could’ve tampered with the controls, it could be another bomb, or something’s coming after them, or – and then the jet fell slightly, then levelled, and Jordan Joyce appeared by the side of the pilot’s window, laughing, shooting through the sky beside them. Xe rolled onto xyr back in air, clutching xyr stomach in glee, then grinned at Lian and held up a sculpted arm, presumably for Lian to admire; Jordan kissed xyr own guns, then twisted back and forth before the jet, racing just ahead of it.

       Lian watched, mesmerized. She could live a hundred years and never lose the wonder of watching a human body in flight.

       They flew like that for a while, Jordan outside the jet, Niloufar and Mar’i within. Mostly there was silence; when there was conversation, it was between Niloufar and Mar’i. Lian piloted the plane.

       And then, out of nowhere, there was another body beside Lian, hovering before the controls. “Hey,” said Iris breathlessly, bending over the control panel; in surprise, Niloufar said something, but Iris ignored her and so Lian did as well. “Where are you going?”

       Lian pointed to the coordinates in the GPS. “Dick said it was Damian’s safehouse.”

       “No,” said Iris.

       Disappointment dropped into Lian’s belly, but she didn’t show it. “I thought so,” she said. “Dick was being weird. Part of me hopes it was a shifter or something, that would be so much better than-”

       “What?” asked Iris blankly, glancing at Lian. “No, those coordinates are right, that place is Damian’s.”

       Lian blinked. “Oh,” she said, uncertainly. “I thought… Well, I mean, you did say no…”

       “No,” repeated Iris, “as in we’re not going there.”

       “We’re not?”

       Iris shook her head, standing up in the cockpit, looking out at the blue sky before them, Jordan’s figure, small in the distance, shooting through the bright and beautiful day.

       “No,” said Iris, once more. With such conviction that Lian suspected she was not meant to question it, Iris said: “We’re going to Kansas.”

 


	7. UNDER PRESSURE

_It's the terror of knowing_  
_What this world is about_  
_Watching some good friends_  
_Screaming, "Let me out!"_

\----

       The door to the little one-story suburban house opened, and then immediately closed halfway again; Lian stuck her foot in the door as a precaution, but the man on the other side didn’t try to slam it closed, just watched them with big brown eyes. “No,” he said.

       “Jai,” said Lian, as sympathetic as she could make herself without sounding like she was begging, “we need your help.”

       “No,” he repeated, meeting Lian’s gaze, then glancing beside her to his sister. “You are not allowed to do this to me, Iris. I already told you, I’m _out_ -”

       There was a flickering lack of movement, and then from behind Jai, inside the house, Iris said: “I can’t believe you’re still in the suburbs.”

       Abandoning the door, Jai turned around. He was in jeans and a t-shirt, and Lian was impressed to notice that he’d filled out very well in the past few years; he was still lean like his sister, but markedly taller than either she or Iris, broad chest straining his shirt. “Why?” he asked. “It’s not like I’m ever that far away from the city. Not that they need me.”

       Iris inspected his kitchen, trailing her fingers along the countertops. “You could help Dad out, you know.”

       “So could you.”

       She glanced up at him, her eyes heavy and almost bored. “I’m busy,” she said.

       “Jai,” said Lian again, standing by the door. He looked back at her, and she asked, “Is it OK if I come in?”

       With a little sigh of defeat, Jai said, “Yeah, of course.” Always the gentleman, he asked, “Can I get you something to drink?” but Lian didn’t quite move, only hovered guiltily by the door. Suspiciously, he asked, “What is it?”

       “We…” she trailed off, then smiled at him apologetically. “We brought some guests.”

       He narrowed his eyes at her. “Brought how?”

       “Well,” she began, “there’s an invisible jet parked in your driveway.”

       This time, his sigh was more like a groan. “I use that driveway, Lian-”

       “For what?” asked Iris behind him, sounding amused. “What could you possibly need a car for?”

       Annoyed, he began to reply, “ _I_ don’t need a-” and then broke off, then turned back to Lian. She smiled at him again. “Fine,” he said. “Just please tell me you’re not using my home to harbor any fugitives from the law.”

       “Oh, no,” said Lian. “Definitely not from the law, anyhow.” Again, Jai groaned, but Lian just waved at the plane behind her, and immediately a hatch opened from the cloaked jet, which wasn’t quite invisible, but gave off sort of a shimmery mirage-like image in the broad daylight. Mar’i came first, flying through the air, passing Lian at the door.

       “Jai!” she said, voice bursting with excitement. “You seem lovely!” She kissed him on both cheeks, then said, “May I use your restroom?”

       Before he could react, she’d darted away, presumably finding it for herself. Jai looked at Lian in confusion, but she couldn’t get the grin off her face, and just shrugged. “This is Niloufar and Jordan,” she said, as the other two joined them. “Niloufar’s a doctor, Jordan’s part god.”

       Jordan smirked and shrugged. “On my mom’s side,” xe said.

       Lian closed the door behind them. Jai seemed completely lost, so she went to his side and placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “Believe me,” she said, lowering her voice. “If we had anywhere else, we wouldn’t have bothered you.”

       “I’m not your safehouse,” he said, looking at her. “I’m not an escape route.”

       Niloufar took a seat at the table. Iris was now pawing through cookbooks on a shelf in the kitchen. _Animal-Free Cookery_ in hand, she murmured, “When did you become vegan?”

       As Jordan leaned against the counter, vaguely interested in whatever Iris was doing, Niloufar said, “We’re not here to hide. Your sister says you have some tech we need.”

       Jai’s eyes widened slightly. He went into the kitchen and took the cookbook out of Iris’s hands, replacing it on the shelf. Standing before her, he demanded her gaze; her form flickered, and so did his, in complete unison. Slowly, slow enough that the rest of them could understand – tying her to his speed, Lian thought – somehow, she always seemed to forget how much of a genius he really was – Jai said, “Don’t tell me you’re leaving again.”

       “I’m not,” she replied sharply. “I’m in control. We don’t need it for me.”

       “We’re here because of Mar’i,” said Lian. Jai looked at her questioningly, and she added, “The bubbly one who’s busy peeing right now.”

       At that moment, light footsteps signaled Mar’i’s return, and she grinned at all of them. “I am no longer peeing,” she announced, then she continued, “This is a beautiful home, Jai! It is such a pleasure to meet you.”

       Unsure, Jai glanced at Iris. In lieu of an explanation, she just said: “Dick’s alternate-universe daughter.”

       As if this made perfect sense, Jai nodded, turning back to Mar’i. “OK,” he said. “So…what’s alternate-universe me like?”

       “A lot like you, I think,” she said kindly, joining Lian, curling her arm around the other woman’s shoulders. “Except, lazy, terrible, and, well, white.”

       “OK,” said Jai. “So nothing like me at all. Alright. Cool.” Iris, rifling through the cupboard, opened a bag of Doritos; he reached in and plucked something else out, handed it to her distractedly, “Eat these, they’re better for our metabolism.” Then he asked, “So what do you need Iris’s speed equipment for? That stuff has a pretty specific purpose, and you don’t look like a speedster to me.” Then, distracted by Jordan, who was inspecting some mechanical clutter on the dining room table, the remnants of a technical project left untouched, Jai added, “Hey! Don’t touch that.”

       Making a face at the man, Jordan defiantly prodded the metal and wires. Jai watched Mar’i expectantly, then looked at Lian, who shrugged. “Don’t ask me,” she said, innocently. “I’m just the driver.”

       She nodded towards Niloufar, who sighed impatiently, and then said: “We want to put Mar’i in atomic stasis.”

       Jai stared at her. “Atomic stasis,” he repeated.

       Niloufar bowed her head in irritated assent. “Yes,” she said.

       He watched her for a moment, then said: “That’s just a theory.”

       Her eyebrows shot up in surprise. “You’ve heard of it,” she said.

       “What’s atomic stasis?” asked Lian.

       Glancing over at her, Jai explained, “It’s a medical theory. Basically, it says that our treatments for major illnesses are focusing on the wrong biological level. If we could stop the progression of cancer at an atomic or subatomic level, not destroying it but putting it into some theoretical standstill, then that would eliminate the need for invasive cancer treatments. But it won’t work,” he continued, looking back to Niloufar. “I work in biomedical research, and the logistics of that theory are impossible. Cancer doesn’t operate on an atomic level, and-”

       “Oh, please,” said Niloufar, rolling her eyes. “Everything operates at an atomic level.”

       “It’s like something out of science-fiction,” pressed Jai.

       Niloufar shook her head. “Look around you,” she said. “This _is_ science-fiction. That’s precisely why we came here. The equipment you have, meant to manage your sister’s speed, can be used as medical tools. I’m sure of it.” She paused, then glanced around at Jordan and added, “That was part two of the paper.”

       “Part two?” asked Jai, skeptical. “Is Doctor Ghorbani your dissertation advisor?”

       She smiled at him, and shook her head.

       After one single moment, the smugness slid off his face, and his eyes widened. “Oh my God,” he muttered. “Niloufar… Niloufar Ghorbani…” Immediately he moved to the table, stumbling over his feet and reaching out his hand, “Oh my God, it’s an honor to meet you, Doctor Ghorbani, your work has been instrumental in our research these past few years-”

       Before she took his hand – not like she especially looked like she was about to – there was a small crashing sound from outside, and they all immediately fell silent. Iris and Lian shared a glance, and Lian pulled away from Mar’i, her hand dropping down to the gun at her belt. “I got it,” Jordan began, standing up, but Jai stopped xyr.

       “It’s OK,” he said, but he sounded worried. “It’s probably just-”

       The door clicked open, and someone began, “Yo, babe, did Wonder Woman accidentally park her plane in the driveway, or-”

       A black man stopped in the doorway, a book bag over one shoulder, a saran-wrapped plate in one hand. The door swung shut behind him. “Hi,” said Lian, as Mar’i, closest to him, gasped and said, “Are those _sugar cookies_!” and took the plate right out of his hand.

       He gaped at them, then looked over at Jai, who said, “You were right, Ami. It is literally impossible to get out of the life.”

       And then, finally, Iris spoke. “Babe?” she hissed, her form flickering and unsubstantial in her anger. She hit her brother gently on the arm and demanded, “Are you kidding! What happened to you and Sin!”

       “Sin joined the Justice League,” replied Jai, glaring back at his twin. “I live in Kansas.”

       “Don’t give me that,” said Iris, rolling her eyes. “ _Superman_ lives in Kansas.”

       Lian reached out and took the plate of cookies away from Mar’i, and handed them back to the man before them. “Hi,” she said kindly. “I’m Lian. I used to date Iris,” she pointed at the woman, “and she’s Jai’s sister. He probably told you about her. Hopefully.”

       The man watched her for a second, then moved the plate to his left hand, and held out his right. “Amistad Ervin,” he said, then he came in, dropping his bag beside the abandoned machinery project on the dining room table. With a sigh, he added, “I’d be lying if I said this was the weirdest thing I’ve ever come home to.”

       “Ey,” said Jordan, across the table, with Niloufar. “You related to Raquel Ervin?”

       Amistad nodded. “She’s my mom,” he said.

       “Damn,” said Jordan, nodding xyr head. “I’ve read her shit. That stuff’s amazing.”

       He smiled a little bit at xyr. “Thanks,” he said. “I’ll pass the compliment along.”

       Then he looked at Jai, who met his gaze with a desperate, helpless look. “Iris and Lian,” said Jai, pointing at each of them in turn, “Mar’i, Jordan, and Doctor Niloufar Ghorbani.”

       He stressed Niloufar’s name slightly, as if Amistad should recognize her. “Oh,” he said. “Cool.” He held out the cookies to Mar’i again. “You can have these if you want,” he said. “My kids made them for me.”

       “You have kids?” asked Iris severely.

       “Kinda,” he replied, as Mar’i thanked him and undid the plastic saran wrap, joyfully munching on a cookie. “I teach kindergarten.”

       Iris looked at him and then, almost as if she was mad she couldn’t come up with anything to criticize, she leaned in to Jai and said something in speedtalk, but he didn’t reply, only shaking his head. “I won’t talk to you,” he replied quietly, “unless you’re on our vibrational frequency.”

       She stared at him for a moment, her form blurry with movement. To give them some semblance of privacy, Lian said to Amistad, “Oh, by the way, that’s our invisible jet in the driveway. And it’s Batman’s tech, not Wonder Woman, sorry.” She paused, then pointed at Jordan, adding, “Xe’s related to Wonder Woman, though.”

       Xe made a face, gesturing with xyr hand to indicate, _Ehh_. “Not really,” xe said. “I met her once. Lived on Paradise Island for a while, you know, got kinda squicked by the whole females-only thing.”

       “That reminds me,” Mar’i jumped in, chewing on her third cookie. “Jordan! I didn’t know humans used the Tamaranean _x’e_ pronoun, I think that’s just wonderful.” She giggled, looked around at them, and added, “Cultural exchange, at its finest.”

       “It’s not Tamaranean,” said Jordan.

       Mar’i looked let down. “Oh,” she said. “I suppose not. It’s a religious thing anyway, I thought it was odd.” Glancing at Amistad knowingly, she clarified, “It means, literally, _close to X’hal_.”

       Quietly, voices obscured by the talk in the room, Iris muttered to her brother, “Why didn’t I know about this?”

       “Um, I don’t know,” Jai replied sarcastically, but his voice was low as well. “Because you haven’t spoken to me in four years? And it’s not really like I can call you up to chat about my social life, is it?”

       Her jaw dropped a little bit, offended. “Excuse me,” she said, “but I didn’t see anyone else volunteering to sacrifice their corporeal form in order to prevent the Speed Force from tearing our dimension apart-”

       He stuck his tongue between his teeth and made a farting noise. Offended, her jaw dropped further. “You’re been so preoccupied with being the hero for so long, Irey,” he said, as painlessly as he could, “you forget that there’s a world outside of that. You forget that I have always wanted a life outside of that.”

       She regarded him for a moment, having closed her shocked mouth, lips pursed. “Fine,” she said coolly. “We don’t need you, just your tech.”

       “Sorry,” he said. “I don’t have it.”

       She stared at him.

       He added, “And I’m pretty sure you already know that, because you also forget that you’re not the only one with speed, Irey, and every time you take half a millisecond to search this house, I can see that. I can see you. So I know you’ve looked, and I know you can’t find any of it.” He stopped, shrugged slightly, and corrected himself, “Well, there is that one thing. But you probably don’t want to touch that.”

       Eyes hard, she watched him. “Where is it,” she said.

       “The cuffs are in the basement-”

       “Not the cuffs. The rest of your tech.”

       “ _My_ tech? It doesn’t belong to me, it belongs to the people who built it.” He paused. “And they’re the ones who have it.”

       She narrowed her eyes, leaning forward; he was just a few inches taller than her, but she still made an imposing threat, burning with speed just below the surface. “What,” she began, dangerously, “are _Mom and Dad_ going to do with that kind of technology?”

       He blinked at her, brow furrowed, and then something else washed over his face. He took a step back from her, then leaned against the cabinets behind him. “You don’t know,” he said.

       “Know what?” she demanded, her voice rising slightly; behind them, Mar’i’s didn’t falter in her lively description of life on the other side of the mirror.

       “About Mom and Dad,” Jai continued, a puzzled smile on his face. “I moved out of that house, and I didn’t need it. They did.”

       “Why?” asked Iris simply.

       “Because,” said Jai, “they’re trying to have another baby, Iris. I can’t believe you didn’t know.”

       Iris stared at him. “ _What?_ ”

       He shrugged. “Are you that surprised?” he asked dubiously. “Between the rapid aging, and the alternate dimension thing, and you disappearing for years on end, and me, you know, in a coma for three years, they got, what? Maybe five or six years of regular kid-raising? I don’t blame them for trying again. Although,” he added, “I said they should look into adoption.” He nodded at Amistad and said, “We are.”

       For a long moment, Iris said nothing. And then, not even pretending to be quiet anymore, she said, “I can’t believe this. I leave for a few months-”

       “-four _years_ -”

       “And I come back,” she continued, “and not only have you given all my tech back to our parents, but you’re gay, too?”

       Frowning, Jai said, “You, Iris? You’re saying this to me, really? What, are you still dating Lian, or is it back to being straight with _Robin_ -?”

       Bursting with ill-concealed fury, Iris shot back, “I’m _bi_ , Jai-”

       “I know you are,” he replied. “And I am not gay, Iris.”

       “I am,” said Amistad genially, from the table; the rest of them had fallen silent as the twins’ argument escalated.

       “Yeah,” said Jai, nodding at Amistad, “he is. But I’m-” he hesitated, glanced around, then lowered his voice and said, “-I don’t know, demi or something. If you ask me, you probably are too, but you never did ask me. So.”

       He stopped talking, blushing slightly. Lian held back a giggle at their expense. The West twins had never been very good at this kind of thing, but she was proud that he had the vocabulary to talk to his sister like this. For a brief moment, she felt a pang of sorrow in her heart for Damian, all alone back in California. He, probably just like Jai, had spent years trying to name the things going on in his head and his heart, and she always thought that he was still only halfway there. She realized she didn’t miss him as much as she thought she maybe should, and she felt kind of bad about that.

       “Whatever,” said Iris, looking away from her brother. “I don’t know why we even came, then, if you don’t have what we need.”

       “What are you going to do?” he asked, but his voice was gentle, and he did not seem unkind. “Knock on our parents’ door, and ask Mom if you can hang out in the basement? All five of you?”

       Iris shook her head. “Steal it, if we have to,” she said. “I’m not being petty. This is bigger than me and you and Mom and Dad.” She watched him. “This is the fate of the Multiverse.”

       There was a tense silence. Jai finally looked away from his sister, then went to the cupboard, and got her another packet of the dense nutrient bars he’d given her earlier. He handed it to her. “Fine,” he said. “Stay for dinner.”

       Nobody said anything; Lian glanced at Mar’i, and was surprised to find that even she looked uncomfortable. Then, breaking the silence, Amistad stood up and said, “Alright, cool. Football, anyone? The Comets play the Knights today.”

       Lian almost laughed, and said, “The Comets had a terrible season, but we can still beat the Knights. A twelve-year-old soccer team could beat the Knights.”

       “Hey,” said Jordan, grinning, pointing at Lian, “don’t count your touchdowns until you’ve got ‘em, you Californian trashcan.”

       Delighted, Lian did laugh this time. As they went on about their respective football teams, he led them into the living room, turning on the big-screen TV.

       Dinner was a taco bar that Jai put together; Lian and Mar’i helped him in the kitchen, while the others stayed watching TV. He and Lian caught up while they cooked, and they were both delighted to discover that Mar’i had been cooking with her starbolts for years now, and she promised to show them her signature Hy’tt blossom crème brulee later – if, that is, she could find a Tamaranean flower garden here on Earth. “Kory used to have one,” said Jai absentmindedly, grilling beef. “By the Tower. Remember, Lian?”

       “A little bit,” she replied, taking out the tortillas. “Didn’t Damian used to garden it?”

       “Yeah,” laughed Jai. “I remember, he planted tomatoes. Kory got so mad.”

       Lian laughed. Beside her, Mar’i stood, out of their way, and smiled at them. “Damian,” she repeated, as if tasting the name in her mouth. “Is he kind?”

       Jai looked up, and glanced at Lian uncertainly. She nodded slightly, as if to say _Go ahead_. “Uh,” he said, “yeah. He always thought he was cooler and smarter than the rest of us, which was annoying, but he cared a lot about us, and had trouble saying it. So if I had to, I’d give him the benefit of the doubt.” He looked up, flashed a grin at Mar’i. “Plus he designed these cool gadget thingies to get Irey to come back down, last time she lost control. So I’ll give him that one: he may actually have been smarter than the rest of us, after all.” He laughed, and so did Lian.

       Mar’i nodded, her eyes far away. “That sounds like him,” she said, quietly.

       There was a bit of a silence as they finished the tacos. They put everything out, separating the beef and the tofu for Amistad, who was, in fact, vegan, and then they all had dinner together. (Jai kept cooking for the first fifteen minutes, replenishing each plate, and Jordan said, “Jeez, that’s gotta be enough,” but Lian laughed and Amistad grinned and replied, “Obviously you’ve never seen a speedster eat.”)

       It was later that night, when they hadn’t quite decided what was happening next, but Jordan had really warmed up to the boys, and was currently arm-wrestling Jai, whose superspeed powers usually gave him the edge; Jordan won, of course, but as they were laughing afterwards, Iris stood up and danced her fingers along Lian’s shoulders as she left the room, indicating for her to follow her.

       Lian did, and they stood in the hallway adjacent to the dining room. Iris stood there, and watched the other woman. “What?” asked Lian warily. It occurred to her that Iris probably had everything planned out already, and, like Niloufar had said in the safehouse, was only telling them as much as she decided they needed to know.

       Iris said, “I need you to do something for me.”

       “OK,” said Lian. “I’m not killing anybody.”

       “I don’t want you to kill anybody.”

       “Oh. That’s good. I was just making a joke, I probably would, if you asked me too.”

       Without even so much as a smile, Iris continued, “Jai has something that I need. Something that could be the key to all of this.”

       “What?” asked Lian, getting annoyed that Iris hadn’t thought she was funny. “A stable home life and a healthy relationship?”

       “The cuffs,” Iris said. “The Negative Speed Force cuffs that Damian designed for him. I need them.”

       “He has them here?” Iris nodded, and Lian glanced behind them, then back at the other woman. “Where?” she asked.

       “In the basement,” Iris replied. “In a locked safe. The combination is our parent’s wedding anniversary, he uses that for everything.”

       “OK. Why can’t you get it?”

       Iris looked at her as if she couldn’t believe she would ask this question. “I can’t touch them,” she said. “I _am_ the Speed Force, Lian, it would negate _me_.”

       “That makes sense,” said Lian, “according to Speed Force logic, anyway, which isn’t much logic at all if you ask me.”

       “Lian.”

       Sweeping her hair out of her eyes, Lian asked, “Why don’t you just ask your brother for it? Why do we have to steal it?”

       From the other room, the sound of laughter spilled into the hallway. The sun was setting outside, casting deep, syrupy rays of light across the walls. “Because he doesn’t want me to have it,” said Iris, and she sounded almost hurt that Lian would ask her this. “Because it’s easier this way. Because I don’t want him involved, for his own protection. Can you blame me if I don’t want Checkmate knocking at his door, Lian?”

       “Too late for that,” Lian pointed out. “I am Checkmate.” When Iris obviously didn’t think this was funny, Lian continued, “Alright, fine, I’ll do it. You distract him, I’ll get the goods, and we can get out of here.” She flashed a smile at Iris, anticipating no smile in return.

       She wasn’t wrong. Without waiting for a reply, Lian turned to head back into the other room. Iris said, “Lian.”

       She turned around.

       Iris asked, “You know my parent’s wedding anniversary?”

       At this, a real grin broke out on Lian’s lips. “I’ve known you since I was eight, Iris,” she said. “I know you better than you like to be known.”

       Then she turned, and she headed back out to the others. A few minutes later, Lian excused herself to the restroom, and Iris spoke and laughed with her brother. The basement wasn’t hard to find, but the stairs creaked so badly that, halfway down, she just jumped over the railing onto the floor, foregoing the tip-toeing. It took her another minute or two to find the safe, and, out of habit, she donned the gloves she had hidden in her pockets, then she opened the safe. There was a plain black box there. She opened it and sure enough, there were the cuffs Damian had placed on Jai’s wrists almost five years ago. She took it, closed the safe, spun the lock, then lifted herself up the stairwell again, avoiding the major creaks.

       Waiting until there was a particularly loud burst of laughter from the other room, she opened the door and slipped outside, leaving the door slightly cracked behind her. Then, with a furtive glance around the pleasant suburban street, she opened the hatch and quickly stashed the box. She stood out in the driveway, alone. A cool wind swept up from the ground, tossing dried leaves across lawns, into the gutter. Dusk slowly leached daylight out of the air, taking with it the vibrancy of color that came with the last twilit hours. Lian shivered. There was a tension in the air, and the wind wasn’t right, wasn’t coming from the right direction. Across the street, the bushes rustled slightly. Lian narrowed her eyes, and went back inside.

       When she brushed past Iris, she leaned down and said into her ear, “Someone’s here. Recon.” Without looking up, Lian sensed a feeling of instantaneous movement, then Iris was still again. Jai’s eyes wandered over to Iris, and he watched her, the only one of them fast enough to see her move.

       “Well,” began Iris, with a low, defeated sigh, “they’re not Checkmate.”

       There was a knock on the door.

       Everyone fell silent, and Jai looked up at Lian, eyes widening; she suspected that he had an idea of what was happening. Saying nothing, all of them looking up at her, Lian put a finger to her lips, held her hand out to indicate for them to stay still, and went to the door. One hand on the firearm she always kept at her waist, she went to the front door, and looked through the peephole.

       Then she frowned, she blinked, and she opened the door.

       Roy Harper stood there in the door. Behind him, a SWAT team with STAR’s logo on their chests knelt, holding up sleek black guns.

       “Hi, baby,” said Roy, sounding tired. “I’m gonna have to ask you to keep your hands where we can see them.”

 


	8. BAD GIRLS

_Live fast, die young_   
_Bad girls do it well_   
_Live fast, die young_   
_Bad girls do it well_

\----

       “Dad,” said Lian. “You can’t be serious.”

       “I am very serious,” he replied, catching her gaze. Behind the rest of the team, two combat helicopters hovered in the street. “I managed to convince them to let me come do this only because I promised I could talk some sense into you, no gunfire necessary.”

       Warily, Lian glanced behind him, at the SWAT team holding tightly onto their weapons. Nodding back at them, she asked, “Then what are those for?”

       Roy let out an amused snort. “Are you kidding?” he asked, glancing around. “Last time you were involved here, unnamed agents entered my house, totally destroyed my favorite car, and almost kidnapped Mar’i. STAR wouldn’t let me get this close to you without backup.”

       “That’s not backup,” said Lian, gesturing to the team surrounding them. “That’s a firing squad, Dad.”

       Shaking his head, Roy said, “We don’t want violence. But if Mar’i is in danger-”

       “You just brought the danger right to her door. Thanks.”

       “Not _her_ door,” said Roy. He glanced behind Lian, then he called, “Hi Jai.”

       From the dining room, Jai raised a cautious hand in greeting. “Hi, Mister Harper,” he said.

       Roy waved his hand nonchalantly. “Nah,” he said, voice raised, addressing Jai. “We’re all adults here. Call me Roy.”

       “Dad,” said Lian, closing the door halfway on him, cutting off his field of vision. “Go home.”

       “Why is Checkmate after you?” he asked.

       “They’re not,” responded Lian. “They’re after Mar’i.”

       “Why?”

       “I don’t know,” she said stonily.

       He regarded her for a second, mirroring the cold steeliness in her eyes. “Shouldn’t you?” he asked quietly.

       She watched him for a long second, and then she stepped out onto the porch, and closed the door behind her. Quietly, she said, “I kept you out of this for a reason.”

       “I know,” he countered. “I pretended I didn’t know for the same reason, probably.”

       Without tearing her gaze from her father, Lian thrust her hand into a hidden pocket, and retrieved a plain black cardholder. “Then why are you here?” she asked him, her voice a low murmur. She opened the thing and held the identification card before Roy’s eyes. “As Black Queen’s Bishop,” she said, raising her voice so the rest of them could hear her, “I order you to stand down, Agent Harper.”

       He watched her. “No,” he said.

       “Checkmate’s Royal Family has absolute STAR security clearance,” she said. “As well as top-level directorial powers. So now,” she told him, simply, slowly, as if he wasn’t understanding, “I am directing you,” she put her ID card away, and pointed at the street, “to leave.”

       “Checkmate _shot_ at me.”

       “Checkmate shot at _me_. You were in the way. It’s an internal affairs matter, I’ve got it under control.”

       Roy watched her skeptically.

       “What?” she asked, annoyed.

       “You’re hiding from an international organization in the Keystone ‘burbs,” he told her. “Nothing about that says _under control_ to me.”

       The door behind Lian opened. Refusing to turn her back to her father, Lian stepped back and glanced around; Mar’i stood in the doorway. Lowly, Lian said, “Mar’i, get back.”

       “No,” said Mar’i firmly. To Roy, she continued, “I haven’t been kidnapped, Agent. I’m being saved.”

       “I understand that’s what you’ve been told, Miss Grayson,” he replied, reasonably. “And, Christ, she is my daughter, so I’m inclined to give you the benefit of the doubt. But, for your own protection, we need you to come with us back to STAR Labs-”

       “So Checkmate can get me?” she asked, eyes flashing.

       Roy’s eyes bulged slightly in disbelief. Gesturing at his daughter, he said, “She is Checkmate, Mar’i. And she already has you. By the short and curlies, by the look of it.” He let out a little sigh and lowered his voice. “Now, Mar’i,” he began, “I know my baby girl is sexy as hell-”

       “True,” interrupted Lian pointedly.

       “-but she’s not worth losing your freedom over.” Mar’i didn’t move, listening to Roy’s words, frozen still. “If you keep this up, we’re gonna have to bring you back with your hands cuffed behind your back.” He paused, then added, “And a Psion inhibitor collar, if need be. But I don’t want it to come to-”

       There was a bright flash of burning hot pink light, and Lian shouted, “ _Dad!_ ” as Mar’i rose into the air, her eyes shining in the darkness in the night, body glowing with the light of a rising sun.

       “How _dare_ you,” Mar’i hissed, fists glowing with the pulsing energy of her starbolts. “How dare you! I don’t know how it’s done in this world, but where I come from, you may not – you _will not_ – threaten me with the same instruments which once _tortured_ my-”

       There was a long, high-pitched squealing note, like a plasma weapon charging, and Lian threw herself to the ground and shouted, “ _MAR’I_ -!” but it was too late; the blast came from nowhere, certainly not from the STAR agents, and it did not quite knock Mar’i out of the air; eyes widening, teeth bared in fury, she let out a scream of rage, then unleashed a frenzy of starbolts on the armored SWAT team before her. Once more, the shrieking sound of a weapon recharging split through the air, and Lian screamed Mar’i’s name again, but Roy, staying close to the ground, injured from where Mar’i’s blast had hit him, reached out and grabbed his daughter roughly on the arm, jerking her away from the scene. The second charge hit Mar’i squarely in the chest, and this time it knocked her to the ground, the brilliant shine in her skin and at the wispy ends of her hair and gently fading.

       Immediately, without getting up, Roy shouted, “Regroup! Defensive formation only, get Mar’i to safety!”

       The door to the house banged open; at the same time that Lian yelled, “Niloufar, get back!” Roy also shouted, “Doctor Ghorbani, get out of here!” but Niloufar ignored them, running to Mar’i’s side; she placed her fingers at Mar’i’s collarbone, feeling for a pulse. Lian tore herself away from her father’s grip and crawled over to Niloufar, grabbed her, and hissed, “Your medical expertise means nothing if applying it gets you _killed_ -”

       Niloufar shook off Lian’s grip, got to her feet, and said, voice hard: “Stop.”

       The chaos – the SWAT team moving, some recovering from Mar’i’s blows, the panicked orders going through the agents, the frantic searching for the source of the blast – it all fell silent, as everyone became very, very still.

       Lian stared. Slowly, she got to her feet. Beside her, Niloufar pressed three fingers to her temple, deep in tight concentration. “Oh my God,” said Lian, her voice hushed. Glancing at the other woman, she began, “Niloufar-”

       “It’s _Seraph_ ,” spat the other woman, jaw wound tightly. “Shut up. I need to concentrate.”

       Falling silent, Lian backed away. Then she dropped to the ground again, reaching out and taking hold of Mar’i’s hand.

       “Get up,” said Niloufar.

       Laboriously, all members of Roy’s team got up, some of them dropping their weapons, unsteady. Roy himself got to his feet, eyes blank and unseeing.

       “ _Leave_ ,” she said.

       A trail of dark, crimson-black blood dripped down Niloufar’s philtrum.

       The STAR team slowly filed back into their helicopters. Lian watched in awe as they moved; Niloufar’s breathing became heavy. Roy was the last of them to get into the chopper.

       Holding her fingers to her forehead, Niloufar began, through gritted teeth: “Lian…there’s someone else out there…I’ve got them frozen, but…”

       “Where?” asked Lian, letting go of Mar’i’s hand and standing up.

       “Roof… there…” With her other hand, Niloufar pointed at a house down the street, and Lian took off sprinting.

       Someone at a house beside Jai’s opened their door as the helicopters took off into the darkening night. “It’s all right!” Lian called, waving her arms to catch their attention as she ran. “Everything’s all right, there was just – just a misunderstanding, everything’s fine!”

       Frightened faces lined windows as she reached the house Niloufar had indicated. Lian leapt, caught onto the awning over the front porch and she swung backwards, flipping onto her feet on top, then climbed onto the roof. She could see the plasma weapon, set up on the roof like a sniper’s rifle. Feet first, she knocked out its stand, then landed with her knee pressed against the shooter’s throat. Snarling, she began, “You better have a _damn good_ explanation-” but then she cut off abruptly, blinking at the face before her.

       “Dick…?”

       At that moment, Niloufar’s hold over him seemed to break. The steel toe of a boot collided hard with the back of her head, and the last thing she saw before she passed out was the sight of Dick Grayson catching her before she fell, gently laying her down on the roof,

\---

       She woke up in the living room of Jai’s home.

       “Hey,” said someone, by her head.

       She blinked, a dull pain throbbing at the back of her skull. When she looked around, straining her eyes against the light, Jai sat beside her, leaning forward on a chair from the dining room table. He smiled at her kindly, and she squeezed her eyes shut again, then tried to sit up. “Where is everyone?” she asked.

       “Trying to figure out what comes next,” answered Jai. “We were looking after Mar’i, but then Irey gave her a shot of superspeed to wake her up.”

       “And what?” Lian asked, rubbing her head, the pulsing pain in her head keeping her sharp and crabby. “She wouldn’t do it for me too?”

       Jai smiled apologetically. “Mar’i lost her shit,” he said. “Took another, stronger shot of superspeed to put her out again. I don’t think anyone wanted to try that with you.”

       Lian watched him for a moment, then leaned her head back on the couch she’d been lying on. “Sorry,” she said to Jai.

       He shrugged. “Take this,” he said, holding out two pills and a glass of water.

       She took them from him, popped the pills into her mouth, and swallowed them dry. Then she took the water and drained the glass. Afterwards, she asked, “That was pain medication, right?”

       He chuckled slightly. “Tylenol,” he told her. “Extra-strength.” From the other room, she could hear the sounds of other voices, could just barely make out Jordan’s argumentative Gothamite accent, and Amistad’s deep, but skeptical, voice of reason.

       “Is Niloufar OK?” Lian asked, glancing up at the man.

       Jai nodded. “Just a nosebleed,” he replied. “But I was a superhero, _and_ a Boy Scout, Lian.” He smiled at her and held up a box of tissues. “Always prepared.”

       She could’ve laughed. “I’m sorry,” she said again. “We shouldn’t have brought this to your front door.”

       He shrugged. “Amistad likes it,” he said. “He always liked the idea of picking up where his mom left off.” He didn’t say anything for a moment, but didn’t look at her. Lian got the feeling he wasn’t done, so she said nothing, waiting for him. “But I don’t want to take after _my_ mom,” he mumbled. “I don’t want to be the guy making dinner when his superhero husband comes home. You know?” Then he did look up at Lian, and there was a sad, gentle little smile on his face. “I don’t want to be the boyfriend,” he said, and she heard the way he capitalized it, even as he said it aloud. She knew what he meant. He laughed a little, and added, “Beside, those guys always get killed off, anyway.”

       Lian didn’t say anything for a minute. And then she leaned forward and put her arms around Jai’s neck, and brought him in for a hug. Holding him close, she said, “We’ll go. Stay here and be safe.” Pulling away, she added sternly, “And don’t let this mess up your relationship. Amistad seems like a great guy. I’m happy for you.”

       “Thanks,” said Jai sheepishly. “I’m happy too.” Lian got to her feet, and Jai reached out to help her steady herself, but she shook him off. “Say hi to Sin for me,” he said. “And the rest of them too, I guess, if you see them,” he continued. “But it’s Sin I don’t really keep up with. Lost touch when she joined the League.”

       “You keep saying that,” countered Lian, as they headed out to join the others. “You do know she’s reserve, right? Dinah hasn’t retired just yet.”

       Jai didn’t meet her gaze. “Still.”

       After a second, Lian relented. “Yeah,” she said. “We’re all pretty proud of her.” They passed the room where Jordan, Niloufar, and Amistad were discussing something, and Jai nodded down a hallway; he took her to the bedroom where Mar’i lay, unconscious, on top of two or three layers of bath towels.

       At Lian’s questioning glancing, Jai explained, “She was burning through the comforter,” and pointed to the points of contact between the towels and her body, where there was definitely a crust of blacked, burnt cloth.

       Lian sat down on the bed, reaching out to take Mar’i’s hand again.

       “Does Amistad know you’re still in contact with Damian and me?” Lian asked.

       Jai didn’t answer right away. Then he said: “No.”

       “If you want to be out of the superheroing business so badly, why do you keep shooting assignments our way?”

       “I don’t know,” he replied. “Because I don’t want to take them?” He seemed agitated. Lian gave him a second, and he admitted, “I always thought – I’d make a good Oracle-type. You know? That way I wouldn’t be in it, but I wouldn’t be the civilian spouse either.” He shrugged and said, “But then Irey gave me my speed back, and now that option’s kind of off the table.” He held his hands out at her, a bitter smile on his face. “What use is a speedster if he’s standing still?”

       Lian said, “You know that we’re not defined by our abilities. You can’t choose those.”

       “Iris chose,” he said, “for me.”

       Neither of them spoke. Lian looked down at Mar’i, then up at Jai again. “If it helps,” she said, “your other option was staying in a coma until your eventual brain-death.”

       Jai nodded slightly. “Good point.”

       “We should have another reunion,” said Lian, grinning at him. “When all this blows over, of course.”

       “Another? Please tell me you’re not counting that time five years ago when we met for twenty minutes to save my sister from being swallowed by the Speed Force as a reunion.”

       “Hey, it was the first time I’d seen you in a while.”

       “How many times can I use the coma excuse before it gets stale?”

       Lian’s grin softened as Mar’i shifted in her sleep, making a cute, loud snoring noise. “You keep up with any of them?” she asked. “Besides me and Damian, I mean.”

       “Yeah, kind of,” he sighed. “We met Chris in Costa Rica in April, and Milagro’s finally home from Orlando. I’ve been meaning to go out to see her.”

       “There’s an Orlando in the Vega System?”

       Jai laughed. “No, the Disney World Orlando. I guess she didn’t tell you, she was…” he trailed off, then he put a hand to his head, something dawning on his face. “That’s it,” he said. “Lian! You don’t need my tech.”

       Letting go of Mar’i’s hand, Lian began, “I don’t need it to begin with, it’s the universe-hopping alien here who-”

       But Jai had already pulled his cell phone and had it up to his ear. “Hey,” he began, without looking at Lian. “I know you’re grounded right now, but we need your help. Are you still using your-” he broke off, someone on the other end interrupting him. And then he grinned and looked up at Lian and said, “Perfect. We’ll let you know.”

       He hung up the phone. Before Lian could ask him what was going on, he asked her: “Your ship still work?”

       “Hope so,” she replied. “That’s our ride out of here.”

       “OK,” he said. “Then it’s time for you to go.”

       Lian felt almost offended. “Excuse me?” she asked. “We’re going, I didn’t realize you were in such a hurry to get rid of-”

       “I’d let you stay,” he told her honestly, moving forward, sitting down beside her on the bed. “But now we know I’m being watched, and a Lantern touching down would cast a lot of red flags.” He reconsidered his words, then added, “Well, green flags, I guess,” and grinned at Lian.

       Before they left, Jai took Lian’s communicator and sent something to a number she didn’t have, then hugged her tightly. “It was good seeing you,” he said, with relief. “Do what you need to do. And try not to get shot.”

       When Mar’i woke up, then were almost an hour into flight. She passed Niloufar and Jordan, both asleep, and went to the cockpit. “Where are we going?” she asked, standing behind Lian’s seat.

       “Texas,” answered Lian.

       There was a silence. Then Mar’i put her hands on Lian’s shoulders and said, “You should get some sleep.”

       “Sleep when I’m dead.”

       “That’s not funny.”

       “I cannot believe,” said Lian, shaking his head, “that Dick Grayson’s daughter has no sense of humor.”

       This pricked at her heart, thinking of Dick. Thinking of the shots he’d fired, of his steel boot connecting with her head.

       “I can fly the plane,” Mar’i said, leaning down, putting her face beside Lian’s.

       “Doubt it.”

       With a small sigh, Mar’i put her hands on the seat’s armrests, and laid her chin on the crown of Lian’s head. “Please. I’m Dick Grayson’s daughter,” she said, echoing Lian’s own words. “You really think my father never taught me how to fly Batman’s jets?”

       Lian didn’t move. Mar’i leaned forward and tapped something on the control panel before her.

       “And,” she said softly, “there’s always auto-pilot.”

       Expertly, she flipped a few switches. The controls went stiff and stable in Lian’s hands. She still held onto them, but then she leaned her head back, looking up into Mar’i’s eyes.

       For the third time since they’d met, Mar’i kissed Lian on the mouth. For a long moment, Lian hesitated, and then she reached up and put her hands on Mar’i’s warm face, through her soft, gentle hair. Mar’i’s own hands, like glowing embers, slid down Lian’s body, gently dragging just above her clothes. The tight space became very warm, and Lian craned her neck, pushing forward into the kiss. Mar’i’s lips were the softest Lian had ever kissed, and the inside of her mouth was hot and tasted sweet-

       The plane bucked wildly in air, and Lian instantly withdrew, a hand to her mouth. “Ouch,” she said hazily, gently pressing on her teeth. “Did I bite your-?” Mar’i shouted Lian’s name and the plane shook again, and immediately Lian switched off the autopilot to try and get control again, and then she stopped suddenly, peering out through the window.

       The hatch at the back of the jet began to jostle, as if being wiggled open, and Jordan was already floating in the air of the plane, cracking her knuckles; abandoning the controls, Lian called, “Jordan, wait, it’s just-”

       Then the hatch opened, with no rush of air. A glowing green light filled the cabin as someone floated in swiftly, then alit and closed the hatch behind her.

       Jordan still floated, but stared at the woman disbelievingly. “What the hell?” she asked.

       “Hi,” said Milagro Reyes, smiling at them. “What you think you were doing?” she asked, addressing Lian, who stood behind Jordan. “Jai told me what happened at his place, you are not bringing this shit to my home.”

       “Oh my God,” said Lian.

       “Who’s using this seat?” asked Milagro, pointing at the seat Jordan had slept in. “No one? OK, good.” She settled into it, placing a hand on her swollen belly. “Now,” she began, eyeing Lian, “Jai said you needed something.”

       “Oh my God, Milagro,” said Lian, moving to her side. Gesturing at her stomach, which looked like she was hiding a watermelon under her shirt, Lian asked, “When did this happen?”

       “Eh,” replied Milagro, shrugging. “About twenty-two weeks ago.”

       “Why didn’t – I mean – who’s the-”

       “It’s a boring story,” said Milagro, tapping Lian on the arm. “I’m sure yours is much more exciting, but would you mind if we got on the ground? Too much movement gets her all riled up.” She patted her belly, and grinned at Lian.

       Milagro gave them coordinates for a safehouse, “In the middle of East Jesus, Texas – you know that’s where my mama’s family is from,” and Lian went to input them in the plane’s controls, and found Mar’i sitting in the pilot’s seat.

       “Hey,” said Lian, leaning over to configure the controls. “Looks like we’re making a landing.”

       “Good,” Mar’i replied, but her voice was very soft. “I like being in one place, to watch the sunrise.”

       Lian didn’t say anything, but she didn’t move either. Everything had happened so quickly. It was hard to believe all this had happened in the span of one sunrise to another.

       After a moment’s hesitation, Lian leaned down to kiss Mar’i on the lips again, but the other woman pulled away, eyes focused on the sky before them. She said nothing.

       Lian paused, and then she left Mar’i, back to the plane’s small cabin.


	9. SEASON OF THE WITCH

_You got to pick up every stitch_   
_Two rabbits running in the ditch_   
_Beatniks out to make it rich_   
_Oh, no_   
_Must be the season of the witch_   
_Must be the season of the witch_

\----

       There was green-construction fruit sitting in green-construction bowls in the middle of the vast safehouse Milagro had brought them to. Jordan poked at the green bananas distrustfully; the interior of the place was bare and austere on its own, but Milagro soon lit it up with lavish green decorations, pulsing with a low light that seemed in tune to her own heartbeat. She settled into a cushy armchair, hands on her swollen stomach, and listened to their story. At some point, Lian became aware that Iris showed up, although she hovered out of sight, in the adjacent kitchen. Curiously, she inspected the constructs around them.

       “So,” began Milagro, eyes narrowed doubtfully, “you want me to,” she nodded at Mar’i, “fiddle with her atoms?”

       “No,” answered Niloufar, who had taken to Milagro’s directness with more enthusiasm than she had had with anyone else, apart from Jordan. “I want you to construct the machines which I can use to fiddle with her atoms.”

       “This atom-fiddling,” Milagro added skeptically. To Mar’i, she asked, “It’s consensual?”

       Mar’i nodded gravely, even as Lian repressed a small grin. “Yes,” Mar’i told Milagro. “There’s a crisis about to collide with the Multiverse, and I might be able to help you stop it.”

       At this, one of Milagro’s eyebrows raised; Lian avoided glancing behind her, at Iris’s flickery form, and leaned forward towards her Lantern friend. “You haven’t heard about this?” she asked lowly. “I thought – maybe the Corps-”

       Taking the cue, Milagro shook her head and replied just as quietly. “I haven’t,” she said seriously, “but we’re having a hard enough time as is with just this one universe.” At Lian’s worried look, she offered, “Then again, I’m still the rookie, remember? I can ask around, see if Guy or John know anything.”

       “That’s OK,” said Lian, sitting back. “No need to start a panic. We’ll handle it for now.”

       Nodding, Milagro sat up slightly, rubbing her stomach. “Now,” she said, her voice louder. “Are you going to ask me to make these magic-speed machines out of nowhere, or is Irey going to finally stop pretending she’s not here and join the party?”

       From the other room, Iris smiled, and then in a split second she was beside Milagro. They shared a short embrace, and Irey sat on the side of the armchair. “I was waiting to make an entrance,” she said, almost apologetically. “I thought you liked dramatics.”

       “Mm-mm,” muttered Milagro, shaking her hair. She patted her belly and said, “Not since the little one started moving. I already get enough drama on the inside, no more left for real life.” She seized Iris’s hand, and placed it across her own stomach. “You can still feel little movement right? Even though you’re going so fast?”

       Iris nodded.

       “Good,” said Milagro. “Wait for baby to say hi.”

       There was a moment, and then Iris’s expression changed. Lian watched her face, saw the wonder blooming there, and couldn’t hold back a smile. For just a single moment, Iris seemed just like when they were kids. “Can I?” asked Lian, holding out her hand, and Milagro nodded.

       They went around the circle; Jordan seemed surprisingly delighted. “My sister,” xe said, in explanation, “she just had her third baby. I been her nanny, I guess, you could say.” Xe laughed.

       Reticent, Mar’i held back at first. Lian didn’t want to push her, knowing how close this experience must be to her; just a few months ago she too had been pregnant, and now her baby was gone forever. Then Milagro said, “Ay, Star-baby, alien. You gotta touch too.” And she did, and, although she struggled against it, Lian could tell that the smile on her face was utterly real.

       Once everyone had done the obligatory belly-touch, and Milagro’s baby had shown off its kicking skills for them all (“ _Fútbol_ ,” said Milagro wisely, tapping her stomach with a grin), she finally said, “OK, I’ll do your speed-stasis-Multiverse bullshit thing. I still think it’s bullshit, though.”

       Amused, Lian asked, “Why?”

       Milagro got up, and motioned for them to follow her; she took them down, into a huge underground bunker. “You’re thinking so small, man. One little machine to hold down one little universal interloper, atom-by-atom? No offense, but you guys aren’t the Justice League – I’m wondering why you’re trying to save the Multiverse with nothing more than an alien, an archer, a doctor, and an Amazon.”

       “And a speedster,” added Iris, with a sly smile. “Speedsters are usually pretty important in crises, remember?”

       “Also,” said Lian, “I’m a secret agent now, not an archer.”

       Milagro grinned. “Not so secret if you go around telling everybody.”

       Iris, Milagro, and Niloufar went to work, trying to come up with a green-construct replacement for the machines Iris’s parents had used to stabilize her speed. It wasn’t going to be a perfect construction, but Milagro waved that off.

       “ _Mira_ , here’s the thing the rest of the Lanterns don’t understand,” she said, shaking her head, leaning back to support her belly. Catching Lian’s eye, she held up the Green Lantern ring, thrumming with power. “This thing?” she said. “You can do anything with it. The boys get in trouble because they keep trying to make it make sense, nah, no.” She shook her head, grinning. “This ring makes anything you can come up with. Does it have to make perfect logical sense? No, it doesn’t. That’s why it chose me as a kid, you know.”

       “Because you never made any logical sense?” teased Lian.

       “No,” Milagro corrected, with a little smirk. “Because I knew how to dream outside the box. Because little-kid logic tells you that anything is possible if you believe, and teenager-logic is just damn stubborn enough to make it happen. This ring is Tinker Bell and I’ll all those kids clapping their hands. _Si?_ ”

       Meanwhile, Jordan took off, heading to the nearest fast food joint to get them all burgers. Mar’i said she was feeling unwell, and Niloufar took her vitals then told her to get some rest. She lay out on the couch above the basement. Lian sat with her.

       “Can I help?” asked Lian. “I don’t think Milagro has any of those icy-hot things you like, but I can look if you want me to.”

       “It’s OK,” said Mar’i. “Will you hold my hand?”

       This was such an odd request; what was even stranger was how simply and matter-of-factly Mar’i had asked it, as if she were asking for medication or a drink of water. Lian obliged, sliding down to sit beside the couch on which Mar’i laid and taking the alien’s warm hand, curling their fingers together.

       There was silence. Below them, they could hear Milagro’s loud laughter, and the women’s conversation. “Mar’i,” said Lian, looking at the other woman. “Can I ask you something?”

       “No,” said Mar’i, her eyes closed. “I’d like to nap, if I can.”

       Lian blinked, taken aback. “Oh,” she said. “OK.”

       The quiet settled in around them. Lian still held Mar’i’s hand, but with her other she removed her weapons from their holster and practices taking them apart, putting them together, and reloading them with just one hand. It was a nervous habit, really, and the gentle clicking of parts coming apart and locking together calmed her, felt repetitive enough to forget that she’d basically given up any allegiance she had to STAR, any allegiance to her father, and depending on how things turned out with Rose Wilson, she might end up losing her Checkmate clearance. That truly would be a disaster.

       Once she was finished with her weaponry, she ended up spinning the rings on her free hand, trying to figure out her next move. While Iris and the others tested Mar’i with whatever they were doing, she would try and get in touch with Sasha Bordeaux. If the Black Queen was on her side, there would be nothing to worry about.

       Then, abruptly, Mar’i said, “I don’t think I’m going to be able to nap.” She took her hand away from Lian and turned to lie on her side, face about level with Lian’s. “What was your question?”

       Despite herself, Lian could not keep herself from laughing. Mar’i was so direct it was almost jarring. Lian found herself unable to predict what the alien would say next, which, given Lian’s skill at reading people paired with her constant desire to be the most powerful one in the room, was an impressive feat. “I just wanted to check in with you,” said Lian. “Make sure you were OK. I just…I thought maybe being so close to a mother-to-be might bring up some painful memories for you.”

       Mar’i’s luminescent green eyes looked past Lian, into the vague distance. “Some painful feelings,” she corrected. “Not memories, not yet. Too soon to be memories.”

       Tears welled up in Mar’i’s eyes and spilled down her face. Barely acknowledging them, she wiped her cheeks. Her expression never changed.

       “Being pregnant with my child,” said Mar’i, “was the second-most joyful time in my life. Eclipsed only by the precious time I had with Ibn and our son.” She smiled at Lian radiantly, her lips closed. “You should’ve seen Ibn. He’s so cold to everyone else, so passionate with me, but so gentle with our baby. I don’t think he ever loved anything quite like he loved our child.”

       “He loved you,” said Lian.

       “Not as much as our baby,” answered Mar’i. Kindly, she met Lian’s gaze. “Compared to the love of a parent for a child, that of a friend or lover or spouse seems so insignificant.”

       Lian gave a skeptic shrug. “I’ve met some parents who wouldn’t agree.”

       “Love is powerful,” said Mar’i. “Sometimes it consumes.”

       Still, Lian disagreed with this, but Mar’i did not seem like the kind of woman who would give up on her love-makes-the-world-go-round worldview. “Up for another question?” Lian asked. Mar’i nodded. After a moment’s hesitation, Lian came out and said it. “You’ve kissed me three times now.”

       Mar’i watched her with big green eyes. “That’s not a question.”

       “Yes it is, Mar’i.”

        The Tamaranean said nothing for a while, watching Lian. Then she said pointedly, “I’d do it again.”

       “Do what?”

       “Kiss you. And I should’ve asked for your permission the first time. I’m sorry.”

       “That’s OK,” laughed Lian. “It was a tactical thing.”

       “I only have to touch you to absorb a language,” confessed Mar’i. “I just had wanted to kiss you all night and finally had an opportunity.”

       “Flattering,” said Lian pointedly. “Why did you want to kiss me so bad?”

       Mar’i looked like she didn’t understand the question. “Because you’re wonderful,” she said. She did not elaborate further.

       Like a teenager with a crush, Lian felt a blush rise to her cheeks. The tears on Mar’i’s face had not even yet dried, so Lian reached out and wiped the wet trails on the alien’s face away. “Thank you,” she said. “I think you’re wonderful too.”

       Then Mar’i leaned forward and pressed her mouth against Lian’s in another kiss; Lian immediately pulled away, something like a laugh frozen on her lips.

       “Mar’i,” she said, but she was also grinning. “What the hell?”

       “I said I’d do it again. We both think the other is wonderful, what’s stopping us?”

       “What’s _stopping_ us?” echoed Lian. “Um, I don’t know, how about the fact that you just lost your entire world, including the man you loved and your child, like a month ago. If you need time-”

       “They’re gone,” said Mar’i. “I love them still, and I always will. But love isn’t something that gets used up until you have no more left – love is open and boundless, Lian. And you are so good and kind and determined, and I love you, too.”

       “Mar’i,” said Lian, pulling away from the woman. “You just met me. You can’t throw the L-word around like that, it just loses its meaning-”

       “Why do so many people think that telling people you love them in some way diminishes that love?” asked Mar’i, curiously. “What’s the point of love at all if you don’t tell people?”

       For a moment Lian wanted to say, “Oh, no, Mar’i,” and sigh and get to her feet and walk away. It was childish and it was weak, to so quickly admit the depth of your feelings for someone else, to trust them with such vulnerability after you had known them for such a short time. Lian had spent years unable to tell Iris the way she felt, and every relationship since then had been short-lasting, had fizzled out, had become a competition of sorts. Lian liked independence, and she liked feeling powerful. Baring her feelings had always been antithetical to that end, and she supposed she preferred to be powerful than to be loved, and besides she had Damian, who loved her power, who nearly worshipped it, but who did not demand her vulnerability in return.

       So Lian wanted to walk away from Mar’i, to call her a child, to tell her she didn’t know what she was talking about and she better figure things out before she ended up getting hurt. But Mar’i had loved so fearlessly and lost so much, and still, it had not destroyed her.

       Maybe Lian was looking at _powerful_ the wrong way.

        Still, Lian had only first met Mar’i a few days ago now. Cautiously, she said, “I don’t think I love you yet, Mar’i. I care about you, but...”

       “Do you have to be in love to kiss?” asked Mar’i, and Lian laughed, but then realized that it was not a rhetorical question, and Mar’i looked like this was a genuine question to which she wanted an answer.

       “Um,” said Lian. “No, I don’t. I don’t mind. I’ve kissed plenty of people I’m not in love with. Do you want to kiss me?”

       “Yes,” laughed Mar’i. “Yes, yes, I do. Haven’t I been clear?”

       “Yes,” responded Lian, who couldn’t help but laugh along. “I don’t know. Sorry. Sometimes I can be a real-”

       She was silenced by Mar’i’s warm hands on her face, their mouths clashing once again. Mar’i tasted sugary sweet, and Lian laughed against her mouth, and they touched their foreheads together. They kissed and kissed, and there was something about Mar’i’s touch that was intoxicating and felt so good, so electrifying. Lian didn’t quite understand this attraction, how she had known this woman for such a short time but started to fall very fast and very hard into her brightness, her warmth, and her seemingly unending passion. Getting to her knees, Lian kissed back, laughed some more, ran her fingers through Mar’i’s long, fiery hair, and then went back to the kiss.

       Out of habit, Lian’s mouth travelled down to Mar’i’s neck, her hands slipping onto the alien’s body – and then Mar’i giggled and took her hands, taking Lian’s fingers away from her body. She pulled away from the kisses and looked up, behind Lian. Lian turned around. Iris stood in the doorway to the basement, her expression blank and unreadable.

       “Iris,” said Mar’i holding out her hands, “come join us?”

       “No,” said Lian quickly, double-taking between Mar’i and Iris. “No, no, Irey, you’re not invited. Sorry. I mean. No I’m not.”

       “We’re ready for you,” said Iris to Mar’i, completely ignoring Lian. “Time to tear your atoms apart,” she said, “sweetheart.”

       Lian thought that _sweetheart_ was rude and unnecessary, but Iris had stopped pretending to care about hurting other peoples’ feelings some time ago. Mar’i got to her feet, then helped Lian up, and held her hand as she passed Iris, heading down into the basement. A green glow bathed them all, complicated mechanical constructs lined up waiting for Mar’i.

       Milagro herself sat on a comfy green-construct seat, so ornate it looked like a throne. “Should be good enough,” she said, hands resting peacefully on her belly. Gesturing to Iris, she said, “Do your worst.”

       Iris sat Mar’i down in one of the machines, and Niloufar set up some monitoring equipment. “This is all experimental,” said Niloufar. “If you feel uncomfortable at any time, say something and we’ll stop.”

       “Will it hurt me?” asked Mar’i, although Lian had the distinct impression that she didn’t mind entirely that much.

       “It might induce some discomfort,” answered Niloufar. “But nothing worse than your first few days here.”

       Mar’i watched Niloufar hook her up to machines. “That was awful,” she said.

       “I know,” answered Niloufar. “But I have extra medication if you need it.”

       “All right,” said Mar’i. “If this will help you, let’s do it.”

       “Lantern?” asked Iris, standing before Mar’i.

       The abrupt switch to codenames took Milagro by surprise, but she did not object. “Whenever you’re ready,” she said, “Impulse.”

       Iris reached out and took Mar’i’s hands. “Nightstar,” she said. “Hold on tight.”

       And then all at once, everything disappeared. The green glow from Milagro’s constructs gave way to blanketing darkness, and Lian’s stomach lurched as the solid ground dropped out from under her feet – even the breath in her lungs seemed to be sucked into a vacuum – there was nothingness, crushing and bare in its most purest form. She could not see any of her friends, she could not even feel her own body; she was directionless, blind, and there was no breath to draw, just an empty cavity where her lungs should be, gasping at nothing – the darkness was so dense it was like water, and it poured like concrete down her throat, into his nostrils, until she was overwhelmed by it, consumed by it, crushed under its weight-

       Dimly, she heard something, muffled through the resounding nothingness bearing down against her. Abandoning herself, no longer caring if her body tore itself apart trying to find its place in this placeless void, she spent everything she could on listening, on trying to hear, trying to decipher the screams – screams? She knew that voice, that was – that was Mar’i –

       For a moment Lian did not know if her jaw was moving or if her mouth was forming words, but there was one thing that broke through the debilitating nothingness, and it was Mar’i, and she was in pain. With all her might, Lian fought against the wave of thick darkness crashing against her, and she thought that if she could hear her voice, she would be screaming, _STOP, IRIS STOP STOP IT YOU’RE HURTING HER STOP IRIS STOP-_

       “-IRIS, YOU HAVE TO STOP, YOU’RE HURTING HER – MAR’I – _MAR’I_ -”

       It was then that Lian realized her voice was back, and she could hear draw breath to shout once more. They were still in Milagro’s basement, and from the look of it, they had all experienced the same thing. Despite shaking badly, Milagro still held her constructs together. Mar’i’s face was buried in her hands, her nails digging into her bright skin.

       “What was _that_?” asked Jordan, who was standing at the door, bags of fast food in xyr hands, looking decidedly less shaken up than the rest of them.

       Iris turned around to look at Milagro. “How are you doing that?” she asked.

       Milagro held up a hand, constructed a paper bag, and retched into it. “Anybody else need one?” she asked, and Niloufar, unable to open her mouth to respond, nodded vigorously and raised her hand. Milagro constructed a bag for her too, and then she looked back at Iris. “You mean how am I keeping up the constructs when I’m not one hundred percent focused?” Iris nodded, and Milagro shrugged. “These rings can do anything. The trick is just believing that.”

       “Who cares how the ring works?” hissed Lian, who was dizzy, but stalked up to Iris all the same, pushing her aside to kneel before Mar’i. “If you hurt her,” she shot up at Iris, with a venomous glare, “I swear I’ll-”

       “I’m OK,” muttered Mar’i, slowly dropping her hands away from her face.

       Turning her attention back to the alien before her, Lian reached out to brush along the woman’s face. “Mar’i,” she said. “Are you injured? Did you – were you in the darkness too?”

       “I’m not hurt.” Her voice was stronger now, and she smiled weakly up at Lian, taking her hand. “I was there,” she said. “It was…just like when I came here. To this world. One moment, my universe was falling apart around me – the world was ending, it was so awful, and there was nothing we could do, there was nobody we could _fight_ because it was just – it was as if the universe just suddenly decided not to hold together anymore, it was like our Earth dropped right out of the sky and then, the last thing I remember,” she continued; she was far, far away from them now, trapped in a memory which played out like a grotesque reel of film behind her eyes, “was the darkness. Crushing, choking darkness, which took me and not my baby, even though I was _holding_ him – I could’ve – I was supposed to-” She looked at Lian then, looked at her but did not see her, and there were tears streaming down her cheeks. “I could’ve saved him,” she said, her voice breaking. “But the darkness took him away from me.”

       She fell forward, and Lian caught her, enveloping her tightly in her arms.

       Lian shot another ugly glare up at Iris, who only watched the two of them dispassionately. “That shouldn’t have happened,” murmured Niloufar, checking the machines and her observations, double-checking her calculations. “There’s no reason that atomic stasis, of all things, would manifest in – in some kind of reality warp-”

       “A trans-dimensional plane,” said Iris. “The mortar which holds the Multiverse together. It’s called Betweenspace.”

       “How is that possible?” demanded Niloufar. “There’s absolutely no indication that this procedure would’ve resulted in a wormhole-”

       “That’s because your research on atomic stasis concerns subjects from our universe,” said Iris sharply, her voice like cut glass. “Playing with Mar’i’s atomic biology must’ve driven a wedge between our universe and the space where hers used to be. Our proximity to her brought us there, just for a moment.”

       “That was Betweenspace?” asked Lian, looking up from Mar’i. “That’s the place you need to get to? Didn’t you say there was someone there, someone – how did you say it – ‘plucking at the strings of the Multiverse?’”

       “Yes, there is someone there I need to find,” answered Iris. “But no. That wasn’t quite Betweenspace.”

       “But you just said-”

       “I _said_ that we were brought to the space where her universe used to be, which is now nothingness. We might have passed through Betweenspace to get there, but Betweenspace is not an absence of universe, it is the space _between_ universes.”

       No one said anything. Then Jordan dropped the fast food bags down on a nearby table and said, “Seems kind of pedantic to me, but whatever. I’m just the muscle. Who’s hungry?”

       It took them some time to recover, but they did eventually all eat. Jordan and Niloufar left to try and get some sleep, and Iris disappeared before they could ask her any more questions.

       Lian stayed very close to Mar’i. After a while, Mar’i got sleepy, and she lay out on the couch again, her head on Lian’s lap. Gently, Lian rubbed the other woman’s head until her breathing became steady and slow, and she was asleep.

       At which point Milagro, who sat adjacent to them in a big cushy armchair, finally spoke. “So,” she said, hands on her tummy. “I suppose you’re about to embark on an awesome, exciting, dangerous adventure to figure out exactly how to get into this Betweenspace so Irey can do her business and take her rightful place as sole master of the Multiverse.”

       Lian watched Mar’i very carefully. In the dim light, she thought she could see light pulsing underneath her skin in tune with her heartbeat. “Well, yeah,” she said, without looking up. “I guess so.”

       “Have fun,” said Milagro.

       At this, Lian did look up. “You’re not coming with us?”

       Milagro chuckled. “Technically speaking,” she said, “I’m a space cop. Which means that I’m not supposed to be party to all this various criminal activity you’re perpetrating, which includes, but is not limited to, kidnapping a subject of STAR Labs.”

       Lian said nothing, but she stopped brushing her fingers through Mar’i’s hair as well.

       “Yes,” said Milagro, “I know about that. I also know that you’re on the run from Checkmate too, but I can’t imagine what for. Nobody knows how they do their business. Usually nobody cares, as long as they do it quietly. You, Miss Harper,” she said, with a little grin, “have not been quiet.”

       This was true. Lian looked down at Mar’i again. “I don’t know what I’m doing,” she confessed.

       “That’s OK,” replied Milagro, with a shrug. “We never had any idea what we were doing in the Titans, and we got by all right.”

       “Except for that time we all tried to kill each other.”

       “Except for that,” Milagro agreed. “Evil supervillain parents aside, we did all right for ourselves.” She paused, then continued, “You know me, Lian, I usually love breaking rules. But it’s not just that.” Patting her swollen belly, she said, “I’m five months pregnant. My back hurts all the time, and my feet are swollen, and I need to pee every two seconds. Hell, I’m on maternity leave from the Corps. I’m gonna have to sit this one out.”

       “I understand. I mean,” said Lian, with a little grin, “not _really,_ because the only thing I hate more than children is the idea of being pregnant with one, but I get that you need to take it easy.” She looked down at Mar’i, at the lightning pulsing through her veins, beneath her skin. “None of us can keep this up forever.”

       There was a pause. Lian would have let that silence go on forever, so enthralled was she by Mar’i’s delicate face, the warmth of her body.

       Then Milagro said, “But before I go, there’s something you need to know.”

       Something in the Green Lantern’s voice was very grave. Her tenderness evaporating, Lian looked up, slipping back into seriousness, into strategist, into Arsenal.

       “Jai called me,” said Milagro, “before I met up with you. He told me everything he knew, including the fact that he was very concerned for his sister. Not worried concerned, Lian. Suspicious concerned.”

       “What are you saying?”

       “I’m saying that I’m not _magic,”_ Milagro said, rolling her eyes. “I was there in the darkness, I felt it the same way you did. There’s no way any Lantern could’ve kept up their constructs during something like that. Besides, I took Jai’s word at face value.”

       “And what does that mean?”

       “Those machines? The ones I created for Irey and Doctor Ghorbani? They were dummies. Bells and whistles. Weren’t the slightest bit functional.”

       “What?” asked Lian, her voice hushed. “How’s that possible? Then what happened back there?”

       “Iris did it,” said Milagro, her voice flat. “Iris dragged us all into that bullshit Betweenspace, and for some reason she needed to pretend like she couldn’t do it on her own. There’s something she’s not telling you.”

       This much, Lian had known all along. “No shit, Sherlock.”

       “I mean something big,” Milagro said, her words just above a whisper. “Something dangerous. This person, this whoever she’s after in Betweenspace, Lian…have you considered that they’re the one in danger, not us? That maybe _we’re_ the bad guys?”

       Lian had known Iris much too long to hear this kind of thing from Milagro. Stonily, she said, “Iris is a hero-”

       “Iris used to be a hero,” said Milagro. “Now she thinks she’s a god.”

       Silence.

       Milagro shrugged. “That’s all I wanted to say.” Laboriously, she got up. “I’m gonna go lie down now. Y’all are welcome to stay the night, but I’ve got a house to baby-proof and a nice big Catholic family to break the unwed-mother news to, so I’ll be off in the morning. So. You know. Good luck.”

       She started to leave. “Milagro.”

       The pregnant woman stopped and turned around.

       Lian turned to meet her gaze. “You know she can hear us, right?” she asked. “Irey is the Speed Force. She can be everywhere at once. Hear everything, see everything, understand everything. There’s no use hiding from her.”

       “That’s what scares me,” replied Milagro. “She knows we know, Lian. And she doesn’t care.”

       Milagro walked away, back into the safehouse to where a soft bed was waiting for her aching body. Lian was left with Mar’i, who shifted slightly in her sleep, letting out a soft vibrating breath, almost like a purr.

       In the organic nighttime darkness, Lian knew that she was not alone. Iris’s almost-presence sent chills down Lian’s spine, raising the hairs of the back of her neck.

 

 


	10. PARADISE CITY

_Take me down to the paradise city_   
_Where the grass is green and the girls are pretty_   
_Oh, won't you please take me home_

\----

       In the early morning Lian jolted awake, her senses spiking as if she’d been struck. For a second she was confused, then she realized that the adrenaline was due to the familiar sound of her emergency commlink, thrown unceremoniously on the ground sometime last night. She slipped off the couch, scrambling to get to it, punching her responder button. “Arsenal,” she said.

       “Oh my God,” said the voice on the other line. “It’s true.”

       Lian didn’t immediately recognize the voice, and anybody in her line of business would’ve greeted her with their codename and their reason for using her emergency frequency. The person continued, “I can’t _believe_ -” and suddenly Lian realized who it was, their familiar voice clicking into place.

       “Adam?” she asked, dumbstruck. “What’s going on? How did you get this comm?”

       “Damian left it,” he answered. Adam was Damian’s boyfriend of almost eight months now. He was from San Francisco, and they met in law school; Damian was getting the law degree because he wasn’t sure what he wanted to do with his life and thought it might be a good tool for his future, but Adam lived and breathed the justice system. He also very much hated vigilantism and the new breed of superhero, claiming they were the cause of the erosion of the US’s capability to deal with crime on an institutional level. He didn’t know or else didn’t want to believe that Damian was Robin, and Damian was absolutely head over heels for him. Adam repeated, “I can’t believe this.”

       “What do you mean Damian _left_ it?” asked Lian cautiously. “Where did Damian go?”

       “I don’t know,” answered Adam. “He… we were…we were attacked by these people, they had guns and helicopters, and…”

       Damn it. So Checkmate had gone after Damian as well. She should never have used his safehouse to begin with.

       “He took off, but he left this with me in case of an emergency. He said you could help me, Lian.”

       “Help you with what? Are you OK? Did they come back?”

       “I mean, no. But, I just…he told me who he is. I didn’t believe him but now, looking back on it, it makes so much sense.”

       “Adam, what do you need?”

       “I got so mad,” said Adam, miserably. “And so scared. I was so terrible to him. I think that’s why he left, because he thinks I don’t care about him anymore… I mean, he _lied_ to me. About something that I feel so strongly about.”

       “Adam,” said Lian, pressing her fingertips against her forehead. “Do you need something from me?”

       “Yes, I do,” he replied, sounding hurt. “Lian. Damian is _Batman_.”

       Lian took pause at this, confused. “Um…actually he’s not-”

       “Don’t try to defend him. I just don’t know if I can trust him after this. I don’t know if I should give him a second chance.”

       “Hold on a second,” said Lian, interrupting him. “Come on. Are you calling me, via an emergency quadruple-encrypted commlink designed specifically for untraceable communication by one of the brightest technical minds in the world…to complain about your boyfriend?”

       Adam sniffed wretchedly. “I just need to work through some things, Lian.”

       “Oh my God,” said Lian. “I’m not your therapist, Adam. You’re a good guy, but you were toxic for Damian to be around, anyway. He’s not Batman, he’s Robin, when I say _he’s Robin_ I don’t mean he dresses up in bright red and jumps around Gotham City at night, I mean he is Robin. It’s part of him, and he didn’t feel safe telling you about it.”

       “Lian!”

       “Adam! Plus you also never respect his gender identity either.”

       “ _What_ gender identity!”

       “My point exactly. I’ll end up being the bad guy if you and Damian get back together, but I’m OK with that because someone had to say it. I’m going to hang up now.”

       “Wait!”

       “Don’t try and-”

       “Wait,” said Adam, sounding very serious. “This isn’t just about me. I’m calling for Damian, too.”

       Lian listened to this. “What do you mean?”

       “I went to your apartment,” he told her. “It’s empty. You know how he gave me the key?” Lian didn’t know this, but she didn’t say so. “I went in to see if he was there and maybe just didn’t want to see me, but he wasn’t. He wasn’t there at all. His room was a mess. Anything about him, pictures, clothes, even old papers – it was all gone. It was like someone wanted to erase any evidence that he had ever lived there.”

       The blood drained from Lian’s face, making her feel very cold. Nausea swirled in her belly. Damian Wayne would not be an easy someone to erase, but if any organization would try it, it would be Checkmate, and if anyone could pull it off, it would be the Black Queen’s Knight, Rose Wilson. Even still, Lian didn’t quite believe Damian was in trouble. He was many things, including probably wrecked over this latest bump in his relationship with Adam, but Damian was a fighter, and he was Robin, and he would not go down so easily.

       “OK,” said Lian. “Thanks for contacting me, Adam. I’ll see if I can get in touch with Damian. Stay put for now. Don’t stick your nose where it doesn’t belong, you might get in some trouble.”

       “No kidding,” said Adam. “Will you pass a message along to Damian for me?”

       “Maybe.”

       “Will you tell him… I’m starting to think we should see other people?”

       “Oh, fuck you, Adam,” said Lian, and she terminated the call.

       Without hesitation, she took out her personal phone and dialed a number, then placed it at her ear. She was calling his personal number, a vintage-style flip phone which Damian had modified for encryption completely independent of Oracle’s networks. He carried that phone everywhere he went, even on patrol, and for her he had bought a cheap hot pink case for it, with rhinestones in the shape of hearts on the front. Because only she had the number, his voicemail was typically, “Hello Lian,” but this time, once the phone stopped ringing, there was a split second or two of silence. Lian began, “Hello, Damian-?” but then he began to speak.

       “Lian,” said a recording of Damian’s voice. “Don’t leave a message. I’m safe. I had to leave. I don’t know what you’re doing but I hope you’re doing it well and I hope you’re not using too many of my safehouses because my father has access to most of them and you don’t want him noticing. I’m sorry I can’t help you more than that. I…had to leave.” There was a pause, then he said, “I’m messed up over Adam, Lian. I know it’s stupid but I’ve been waiting for this shoe to drop and it finally has and now you’re not here and I’m getting scared and it has nothing to do with whoever attacked us. I feel like there’s something wrong with me.” Lian closed her eyes. There was an ache deep in her chest. “Usually you’re around to knock me out of it but this time you weren’t. So I’m leaving. I don’t know where I’m going yet, but I know that I’m dropping out of Stanford and I’m not going back to that apartment and I can’t-”

       With a _beep_ , the greeting ended. She hung up quickly, following his instruction not to leave a message. She felt unwell. Damian had his ups and downs, and he didn’t always share his lowest downs with her but she knew that he struggled very much with things he didn’t have control over, and she knew that recently he’d been back on medication for the first time since they were on the Titans together, and she knew that he was never as put-together as his incredible sense of style would suggest. What was far more worrying, she thought, than whatever Checkmate might have done to him, was what he could have done to himself.

       Delicately, she placed the phone down in front of her. She loved Damian and he loved her, but they loved each other differently. Sometimes she took such pity on him, knowing that she had had such a wonderful father to guide her along, and he had managed with a father who didn’t mean to be cold, but didn’t know how else to be. Still. At times loving Damian was like loving a child, and at times it meant teaching him things he didn’t already know, which included how to be nice to himself.

       Lian thought back to what Mar’i had said. _No love like that of a parent to their child._ Be that as it may, she didn’t love Damian _that_ damn much, and also she’d slept with him three or four or ten times, so it would be fundamentally wrong to call their relationship that of a faux-mother and her child. But Lian wasn’t quite sure that there was any term which quite described her and Damian’s relationship. They were uncharted territory. They were each other’s vocabulary for describing their feelings for one another.

       Again, she thought that he probably missed her more than she missed him. But she was concerned for him all the same, and needed to know that wherever he was, he was OK.

       Speaking aloud, the only way she knew how to contact the other woman anymore, Lian said: “Iris.”

       That feeling of always-being-watched condensed into a body, and Iris stood before Lian, who still knelt on the ground.

       There was a moment’s silence. Iris did not greet her. “Do you ever sleep anymore?” asked Lian.

       “Not the same way you do,” answered Iris. “What do you need?”

       Lian got to her feet. “Where is Damian?”

       “Why?”

       “Because I want to know.”

       Iris seemed very suspicious of this, and Lian didn’t like it. “Damian isn’t part of this.”

       “Yes, he is,” answered Lian. “You’ve said before that this entire crisis is his fault. He started this to begin with. He has everything to do with this.”

       “I’m not bringing him here,” said Iris staunchly. “I can’t be around him.”

       “Irey please, you’re not _teenagers_ anymore-”

       “I mean I _can’t_ be around him,” Iris interrupted, a hint of anger flickering across her face. “He broke the Multiverse, Lian. Being near him is like being completely overwhelmed by white noise. We do this without him.”

       “Fine,” said Lian. “But I want to know where he is.”

       Iris said nothing for a moment. Her body flickered for just half a second. “He’s in Gotham.”

       This hit Lian with a wave of relief. “Are you sure?” Iris nodded. This was good to know: Damian had been feeling badly about Gotham lately, and had not been back to visit to Lian’s knowledge for at least a year. Part of this was justified, she suspected, but also she thought it was bad for him – Gotham was his home, and there were so many people there who loved him very much. It occurred to Lian how strange this whole situation was, how Damian seemed to be at the center of this mess and yet according to Iris, could not be involved at all. She thought of what Milagro said. _Maybe we’re the bad guys._

       “Iris,” said Lian.

       “What?”

       “Who are we really looking for?” she asked. “You keep talking about someone playing with the Multiverse. You keep talking like you need to stop them. Just answer me one thing.” She paused, then asked, “We’re not going after Damian, are we?”

       Iris rolled her eyes, which Lian found incredibly rude. For years and years Lian had been deeply in love with Iris, had wanted to be with her so badly; and now she found it difficult to talk to her just for a single conversation. “No,” said Iris. “Lian, how much clearer can I make it?”

       “A lot clearer! One hundred percent clearer!”

       “Look at it this way,” she said, impatiently. When she spoke again, she slipped into speedtalk, too fast for Lian to understand. She stopped, closed her eyes for a split second, then restarted. “The Multiverse,” she said, “is a web.”

       Like back in the Titans’ old safehouse, when Iris held up her hands, a great golden orb grew in the center of the room, glistening as if built from liquid galaxies. As Lian watched, eyes wide in awe, the globe flattened out to a web. Iris reached out and trailed her fingers across the shining strands, and they let out little tinkling sounds like bells being struck.

       “Regular people - people like you and Damian,” she said, “can’t see the whole thing. It’s on a different dimensional plane than you are. But because the Speed Force binds me to every single universe, I can see the big picture. I can feel it, and what I feel is someone in Betweenspace who keeps pulling at the strings, and if they keep on doing that, the entire Multiverse is going to unravel.”

       “So?” asked Lian. “Where does Damian fit into all of this?”

       Iris took hold of one shining strand of the web and shook it violently. A cascade of golden sparks sprayed out from the web, then coalesced into an enormous spider which stretched out across the web, mechanical-looking and thrumming with the low pulse of energy. “We’ll call them the Spider,” she said. “They’re the one in Betweenspace, tugging at the strings, slowly tearing the Multiverse apart.”

       Like clockwork, the spider began to saw one sharp, blade-like leg against the golden strand upon which it sat.

       “Damian, on the other hand,” she continued, “isn’t doing anything. Not actively, at least.” Once again, she brushed her fingers across the web and there appeared something smaller than the spider, wrapped up in gossamer. Like a trapped fly, it struggled helplessly in its golden silk captivity, sending violent vibrations down the length of the web. “Four years ago, the Multiverse hit a snag. Something that was supposed to happen didn’t, and it was Damian’s fault. That was what started sending reverberations through the Multiverse, and what brought the Spider to us. That’s why I can’t be near Damian anymore - whenever I am, all I can hear is whatever he _didn’t_ do echoing throughout a billion universes.”

       “Didn’t do?” asked Lian, her eyes flashing back to Iris, reflecting the bright luminescent gold before them. “What do you mean? Do you know what it was?”

       “No,” said Iris, but even demigods have tells, and Lian had known the other girl long enough to spot a lie.

       “You do, don’t you?” she asked. “This is the second time you’ve specified that this is about something Damian _didn’t_ do. What was it?”

       “Nothing,” repeated Iris. “Whatever it was, it’s too late now. All I’m trying to do is fix things before they get any worse.”

       Lian did not believe her. “How can you-”

       But at that exact moment there was a loud _snap_ and the strand of the Multiverse buckled under the Spider’s weight. The web crumbled into stardust and disappeared, and when Lian looked back up, Iris was gone.

       It was only at that moment that Lian realized she was all alone in the room. Last night Mar’i had lain across the couch, her head in Lian’s lap, but now she was gone. Silently, Lian cursed herself – that should’ve been the first thing she noticed, but she was so preoccupied with Adam’s call and Damian’s wellbeing and Iris’s mysterious half-explanation that she had momentarily lost sight of where she was. First she slunk through the house, searching the other rooms, Niloufar and Jordan in one, Milagro splayed out and snoring in the other. Nothing in the kitchen or the basement. Lian felt a strike of fear that Mar’i was gone, that she had up and left just like Damian had. Then she glanced out a window and realized the sun was rising.

       She met Mar’i under the yellow-pink sky, the glowing rosy warmth of dawn. The other woman landed lightly on the ground, long hair fanning out like a comet’s tail behind her. “Good morning,” she said, her voice bursting with joy. “Someday I’ll take you up to witness the sunrise in the mesosphere. It is the most beautiful thing.”

       Lian couldn’t help but smile. “Not the _most_ beautiful thing,” she said, a see-through flirt, but Mar’i soaked it up. Lian expected another kiss, but one did not come. Instead Mar’i took her hand and leaned into her shoulder, and they watched the sun hang low above the horizon.

       “How are you feeling?” murmured Lian. “Need any pain meds?”

       Mar’i shook her head. “I feel better every time I see the sunrise,” she said. “I know it isn’t the same, but it looks just like the ones in my own world. It’s like being home, for just a little while.”

       Lian didn’t know what to say to that.

       “I feel at home when I’m with you, too,” Mar’i added. “But in a different way.”

       Milagro took off in the early morning, promising to keep in touch, and to send Lian many pictures of her baby after the birth. Without her, the safehouse was empty and bare, but Lian did not seem in a hurry to leave. “Jordan,” she said, “there’s a town a few miles out due north,” and, at Jordan’s raised eyebrow, Lian pointed and said, “that way. You should be able to get supplies for you guys for the next few days.”

       “For us?” asked Niloufar. “Where are you going?”

       “I need to meet with someone,” answered Lian. “Alone.”

       “Who?” asked Jordan.

       Lian didn’t answer.

       “Come on,” added Jordan, an easy mile on xyr face. “If you can’t tell me, can you tell your girlfriend, at least?” Xe nodded at Mar’i, who glowed maybe a little brighter at being called Lian’s girlfriend, but otherwise didn’t quite respond.

       “I’m sorry,” said Lian. “I can’t tell you. I’m taking the jet but I’ll be back in a day or two.”

       “Agent Harper,” said Niloufar; she moved only slightly, but it was a movement towards Mar’i, and it was protective. “You’re an agent of an organization which has twice now tried to take Mar’i. I have to say I’m uncomfortable with the thought of you taking an unexplained trip to rendezvous with someone you can’t tell us about.”

       To Lian’s knowledge, Checkmate had only tried to take Mar’i once now, back at the Harper household. Then it occurred to her that Niloufar might be referring to the mysterious attacker on the rooftop at Jai’s house. But that had been Dick Grayson, and Lian knew for a fact he didn’t work for Checkmate. He had clashed with them too many times before. Still, that raised a very good question – who was Dick working for, and why would he do something as callous as shoot at his own daughter, albeit one from an alternate universe?

       But Niloufar had a point. “Checkmate shot at me too, remember,” Lian reminded her. “And it’s not about that. I have a contact who might be able to provide me with some information, and I don’t trust her around any of you.”

       Jordan grinned, apparently pleased at the idea of a challenge. “I could take her,” xe said, casually.

       “Why would you trust them at all, then?” asked Niloufar.

       “She’s someone I’ve worked with before,” answered Lian. “But also someone I’m not about to underestimate.”

       Niloufar considered this for a long moment. “Can I ask who?”

       Lian shrugged. “You can ask, sure. I’m not going to tell you, but you can always ask.” At the expression on Niloufar’s face, Lian continued, “Doctor Ghorbani, please. We’re on the same side. If I’d been waiting to betray you all, don’t you think I’d have done it by now?”

       “That’s never a good argument,” said Jordan, but there was a slight grin on xyr face.

       “Harper,” said Niloufar, “you’re a spy. Lying is what you do.”

       “But not what I’m good at,” countered Lian. Wryly, she told Niloufar, “I’m obviously not taking orders from Checkmate anymore, and it’s a very bad spy that doesn’t even know who they’re working for.”

       There was a moment of tension, and then Niloufar glanced away. Mar’i went past her, to Lian. Taking Lian’s arm, she looked back at Niloufar and Jordan and asked, “What’s our next move, now that atomic stasis is off the table? Iris left before she told us.”

       “That’s because she has no idea,” commented Jordan. As always, xe was floating slightly, weightless, crossing xyr legs as xe began to slowly turn upside-down in air. “Didn’t you hear her? She was just as messed up as the rest of us by that fake-o Betweenspace, whatever it was. She has no idea what she’s doing.”

       “I doubt that,” said Lian, partly because Milagro’s warning had clued her in that there was definitely something larger going on, and also partly because for some reason she felt obligated to defend Iris. “Sure, Iris can get a little cryptic at times, but she knows more than anybody in the Multiverse. I trust her.”

       Even as she said this, the words tasted bitter in her mouth.

       She turned to glance at Mar’i, who reached out and took hold of her hand, which was a movement at which Lian really had to stop being surprised. “I’ve got to go,” she said. “But I’ll be back in a day or two. If something happens, call for Iris, she’ll come.” Lian was not entirely sure about this, but didn’t think her doubt was worth sharing. “Excuse me,” she said, and she let go of Mar’i’s hand and left, heading alone out to the cloaked jet outside.

       Heavily, she entered the jet and took her seat at the controls. Going through the motions to get the plane started was the easy part, almost calming as she followed the formulaic procedure, and thus had no time to think about what she was about to do. Just as she was about to take off, there was a loud clanging from the outside of the jet, as if someone were knocking on the bay doors; switching on the sensors, she squinted at the cameras, then, just as the clanging began to turn into a _crunch_ , she opened the doors and got to her feet.

       “Jordan,” she said, looking at the person striding up into the jet. “Didn’t I ask you to get supplies for Niloufar and Mar’i?”

       “I brought groceries back when I got dinner last night,” xe said, shrugging. “Plus Mar’i can fly. Let her do it.”

       “Jordan-”

       Jordan strode past Lian, grinning back at her, then took a seat in the copilot’s place, kicking xyr feet up on the dash. “Nice ride,” xe said. “I never get to drive the company cars.”

       Lian did not want Jordan with her on this trip, but she knew that she had no way of stopping a superpowered powerhouse like Jordan from doing whatever xe wanted. On top of that, she supposed it probably was a good idea to have backup. If only to hold Lian back from attacking, if need be.

       So she relented, and returned to the pilot’s seat. “Buckle in,” she said, nodding at Jordan.

       “Nah,” said Jordan. “I’ll be OK.”

       “I know that,” answered Lian coolly. “But if you don’t know how to fly this thing, then I’m going to show you how. And step one is buckling your seatbelt.”

       Yellow sunlight filtered from the glass before them, although Lian knew that it was artificial: the entire jet was built without any direct windows in order to minimize potential damage. The ‘windows’ around them were really just high-res screens. With her augmented senses, Jordan could probably tell that. For a second Lian thought that Jordan was about to ignore her order. But then xe took her feet off the control panel, and buckled xyrself in.

       Lian said, “All right. These things are built to run on their own, so it’s pretty easy once you get the hang of it. You see these levers here?” She began to explain the process of taking off to Jordan, performing the movements as she spoke them aloud. Jordan seemed interested at first, but started to get distracted after a while, picking at ends of xyr long hair, peering out at the digital sky projected before them. Once Lian had brought them to cruising altitude and covered the basics (and sensed that Jordan was no longer listening), she fell silent.

       Nothing for a few minutes. Then Lian asked, “Did Niloufar ask you to come?”

       “Nah,” answered Jordan. “She trusts you just fine, but she wouldn’t be her if she weren’t way too suspicious of everyone all the time.”

       “So?”

       “So I’m tagging along,” said Jordan, “because I know a thing about deadbeat moms, and am always up for causing them a little hell.”

       Alarm dropped like a stone into Lian’s stomach, and she glanced over at Jordan. “Deadbeat moms?” she asked. “What does that mean?”

       “It means a _goddess_ left me to live with my dad’s family when I was a baby, and we barely scraped by,” xe replied mildly. “And the next time I see her, I’m a seventeen-year-old non-binary Superman, and she drops some bullshit about a prophecy, about a daughter of Athena, and tells me I’m Wonder Girl.” Although xyr voice did not sound bitter, Jordan would not quite look up at the display or around at Lian, instead keeping xyr gaze focused on the control panels or at xyr nails, which xe picked at down to the cuticle. Then, with a sour grin like sucking on a lemon, xe finally glanced up at Lian. “I said, Thanks for asking, but this whole Mother-Earth-nature-womyn-island thing is kinda freaking me out. Too goddess-worship woman-born-woman, y’know?”

       Xe flashed a grin at Lian, who weakly smiled back.

       “Point being,” Jordan replied, “we’ve all read your file, Harper, and we know you’ve done some things, had some questionable contacts and took care of some less-than-delicate missions,” xe said, “and by that, I mean that you used to be an assassin, and you used Robin’s money to do it.” Xe cackled, and pretended to wipe xyr eyes. “Classic.”

       Lian was not entirely following this train of thought, which had not ended up exactly where she’d thought. “What are you talking about?” she asked.

       Jordan shrugged, still grinning. “Someone you don’t trust, but you won’t underestimate. Someone you’ve worked with before. And from the sound of it, someone you still got a grudge against.” True, true, and true. “We’re going straight to the top, aren’t we? Right up to the Head of the Demon, and we’re gonna get everything her people have on the Multiverse. Don’t tell Robin this, but I’m kinda looking forward to beating up a supervillain who also happens to be a terrible mother.”

       “Talia al Ghul is not a terrible mother,” said Lian, offended on Damian’s behalf. “She’s a good woman who loves her son a lot.”

       “And who also heads the largest criminal empire this side of Lex Luthor.”

       “Bigger than Luthor,” Lian pointed out. “She ran LexCorp for a long time.”

       Jordan watched Lian, the little smile still on xyr face, but also tinged with a hint of bemusement. “Is she hot?” xe asked.

       “Well,” said Lian, “I mean, yes, but that’s not the point. I appreciate that you seem to care about Damian in some weird, twisted, Electra complex kind of way, but no. I’m not looking for Talia.”

       Jordan arched an eyebrow. “Really,” xe said.

       “Really,” Lian replied, turning to stare out at the sky projected before them, the limitless blue expanse hitting the edge of the horizon in the distance. “We’re not going after Damian’s mother,” she said. “We’re going after mine.”

 

 


	11. SIMPLE MAN

_And be a simple kind of man._   
_Be something you love and understand._   
_Baby, be a simple kind of man._   
_Oh won't you do this for me son,_   
_If you can?_

\----

       They stowed the jet outside the city, and started in on foot. “Damn,” said Jordan, looking around them as suburbs melted into low city blocks. “This place looks pretty good for having been completely blown up a while ago.”

       “That was fifteen years ago,” answered Lian, keeping her gaze lowered, trying not to look anyone in the face; it was a big city, and it had been some time since she lived there, but Star City had more undercover capes than almost any other place in the country, and she wasn’t about to be recognized. “Queen Industries poured money into reconstruction. The skeleton of the city was back up and running within a year, the districts by the Bay completely recovered in five.”

       “You mean the rich neighborhoods,” said Jordan.

       Lian nodded, then shrugged. “We didn’t fund that part. We focused on the surrounding middle-class areas and the inner-city neighborhoods. It’s an ongoing process, but we managed to create a lot of new, higher-quality housing for people who need it.”

       “Eh,” replied Jordan, brushing this off. “Gentrification, by any other name…”

       Lian’s first instinct was to defend her family and their money, to tell Jordan how hard it had been to put this city back together again, but they didn’t need her defense and Jordan probably had a point anyway.

       “Why do you say _we_?” asked Jordan, sounding vaguely interested; xe grinned and waved at a little dog across the street. “Not like you did anything, you were like ten.”

       When Prometheus destroyed Star City, Lian had been nine years old. She could still remember the trembling of the ground beneath her, what had seemed like an earthquake at first, but which soon became much, much worse. There had been heat, and fire, and Mia screaming her name – and then she remembered being plucked from the ground, taken away by warm, familiar arms, carried to safety by Donna Troy. She was in hiding for months after that, presumed dead, her father pursuing an undercover mission with Deathstroke. Later she came to realize that they had constructed a fake corpse for her, a lifeless body that was buried in her stead. It was not quite dying, but for some time she had thought it a little bit similar. That is, until she learned the truth about the man who had taken care of her those three months, Jason Todd. After she found out what happened to him as a child, she stopped thinking she knew anything about what it might be like to die.

       Her grave had been destroyed by her mother in a furious fit after she found out that Roy had lied to her about their daughter’s death. The woman swore vengeance. Heavily, Lian thought of her generation’s Teen Titans, of their injured disbandment, of how difficult it had been to trust one another after what her mother did to them. Cheshire had delivered on her promise.

       But Lian had responded in kind, at the age of eighteen hunting her mother down and sending her to prison. A few years after that, Lian had reluctantly teamed up with Cheshire to rescue Jason Todd from a crime syndicate the woman knew well. Lian could’ve killed her then, could’ve erased Jade Nguyen from existence, could’ve pretended that she was motherless and she always had been. But instead, she had struck a deal with Cheshire. As long as she stayed Lian’s contact (and limited her death and destruction quota), then Lian would let her go, and keep the authorities off her tail.

       It was not something that a Batman, Incorporated agent probably should have done, but Lian did it anyway. The line between hero and villain was thinner than ever these days, as everyone wanted a piece of the pie. Might as well use that to her advantage.

       “This way,” murmured Lian, nodding down the block to a wide wooded area, separated from the city by wrought-iron fence.

       “Oh, sick,” said Jordan, as they passed through the gated entrance and xe realized what the place was. “Damn, I’m from Gotham and even we don’t get supervillain lairs in cemeteries. I love it.”

       Lian didn’t respond to this. The last time she had been here in person, her mother had dosed her with Slade’s mind-controlling poison, and Lian had nearly destroyed her team under its influence. She could still vividly remember firing a bullet into Damian’s back, hearing his heavy breathing slow in the cavernous silence of the team’s old safehouse. At the north end of the graveyard, they came upon a stone mausoleum. Lian knew that a retina scan and a passcode would allow her access, and as far as she knew the passcode was still her own birthday, a passive-aggressive reminder that her mother still cared about her, in her own twisted, self-satisfying way.

       Instead of going through these motions, Lian just nodded at the entrance. “I need you to open that,” she said to Jordan, who shrugged and, with a grin, heaved open the heavy doors.

       At the dark, dusty stairwell, Jordan groaned with delight and said, “ _Nice_.” If nothing else, Jordan had an appreciation for aesthetic.

       They descended beneath the cemetery. The second set of doors, Lian opened with her biometrics, knowing that it would cost more than her self-satisfaction was worth if she broke the entrance. The place was sterile and artificial, like an operating room or a morgue. Before a set of tubes filled with synthetic liquids – her poison, no doubt – Jade Nguyen turned around to face them, a wide smile on her face.

       “My sweet baby girl,” she said, in a low, sing-song voice. Gesturing around them, Cheshire asked, “Like what I’ve done with the place?”

       “No,” answered Lian stoically. “How much did it cost?”

       Cheshire was funded out of Lian’s accounts; partly her trust fund, yes, but more recently her own personal bankroll, now that she was earning considerable income with her fashion design, a venture Damian had helped publicize. His celebrity combined with their clout as public Batman, Inc. agents served her brand well, and she no longer relied on her family for funding.

       “Oh, sweetheart,” sighed Cheshire. “A mother takes care of her daughter, not the other way around. I paid for it out of my own pocket.”

       Lian’s eyes were dark, unwilling to engage with the woman. “Is that so?”

       Cheshire nodded. “You do your business,” she said, “I do mine.” There was a pause, and then she strode forward, offering her hand to Jordan. “I’m Jade,” she said. “Always a pleasure to meet Lian’s friends.”

       Jordan did not proffer xyr hand, even under Cheshire’s tight and deadly gaze. “Didn’t you nuclear-holocaust a country?” xe asked, suspiciously.

       Cheshire shrugged. “Once or twice.”

       “You ever met Wonder Woman?”

       She repeated, “Once or twice.”

       “She kick your ass?”

       A momentary flare of anger – Lian hated so much how she could see herself in that flicker of fury, like looking into a mirror – and then Cheshire’s expression broke out into a wide grin. “Into next week,” she said sweetly.

       “This isn’t a social call,” said Lian, striding past her mother, to where the vials of poison were stacked. All were unlabeled, although she doubted that they were all the same. With the sudden urge to sweep them all onto the ground, shattering the glass and spilling the poison, Lian said, “I need information.”

       “Of course you do,” answered Cheshire, glancing back to watch her. “It’s not as if a girl could visit her mother for purely innocent reasons, now, is it?” Watching as Lian picked up a vial to inspect the contents, she added, “You can have that batch, if you want. It came out too weak, nonlethal.” With a venomous smile, she said, “Reminded me of you.”

       “I don’t do this banter thing with murderers.”

       “That’s not true. Or are you no longer in contact with Jason Todd?”

       Jordan, who recognized this name from the Gotham streets, glanced up at Lian with an eyebrow raised.

       “I never understood those arbitrary lines you heroes draw in the sand,” Cheshire continued, still smiling. “The difference between him and me is one of degree, Lian, not of kind.”

       Before Cheshire had even finished speaking, Lian looked at her doubtfully and asked, “You think I have time to listen to this right now?”

       “Well,” laughed Cheshire syrupy sweet, “seeing as you haven’t yet told me why you’re here-”

       “I need intel,” she began, “on anyone in your line of work who’s shown up out of nowhere in the past four years. Someone with no history, no record, and no rapport with anyone.”

       “Darling,” said Cheshire, “there are more of us who _do_ fit that description than don’t.”

       “What about rumors?” asked Lian. “Have you heard anything about the Multiverse? Anybody sticking their fingers where they shouldn’t be, as far as multiple universes are concerned? Didn’t you once try to kidnap me to another universe?”

       Shaking her head, Cheshire began adamantly, “It wasn’t a kidnapping-”

       “You drugged me,” Lian shot back, “again. Fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice, shame on me, fool me a third time and I’ll shoot you in the eye for real, Jade, give me anything you’ve got or I’m leaving.”

       Cheshire sighed wistfully. “Why don’t you call me _Mommy_ anymore?”

       “Because I hate you,” answered Lian, and it would’ve been funny if she didn’t sound so goddamn serious. “I came to you because I’m on a case and we’re out of leads, but if you can’t give me anything then I’ll be on my way.”

       Lian had been thinking about this for some time; three years ago, in the mission during which she had rescued Jason Todd, Cheshire had stolen Batman’s tech and claimed she could open a portal to another world, and begged Lian to come with her. Lian had never seen her mother so out of her mind. Despite being halfway drugged with a mind controlling toxin, Lian had fought her way through it and refused. The tech had then proceeded to blow up in Cheshire’s face, so it’s not like it could’ve happened anyway, but knowing her mother’s interest in alternate universes Lian had considered going to Cheshire several times in the past few days. Although she had not made a decision until they were well and truly stuck.

       “Hey,” said Jordan, leaning forward past Cheshire to address Lian. “If you want me to beat the shit out of her, I totally can.”

       Lian held up a hand. “Let her answer, Jabberwock.” This was Jordan’s codename; Lian did not know if Jordan wanted Cheshire to know xyr identity, so she decided to err on side of privacy.

       “Jabberwock?” echoed Cheshire, narrowing her eyes and glancing around at Jordan. “Don’t you think this world only has enough room for one Carroll-themed alter ego, child?”

       “Obviously,” replied Jordan, “you’ve never been to Gotham.”

       “Jade,” said Lian, snapping to get Cheshire’s attention. “Do you have something for me or not?”

       Cheshire considered this for a long moment, then said, “Yes, I do. The community’s been abuzz about the appearance of a special someone – well, someones, really – for almost four years now, although certain interested parties have done their best to keep it quiet.”

       Almost four years. Lian’s pulse quickened: the timeline fit. “Who?” she asked. “I need to see them immediately.”

       “Mmm. It’ll be an inconvenience, but surely she can squeeze us in.” Cheshire spoke aloud a sequence of numbers, which opened a familiar-looking tear in the space-time of the room.

       “Who can squeeze us in?” asked Jordan suspiciously, as Lian gaped and asked, “Was that a _League_ transporter code?”

       “Technically yes,” replied Cheshire mildly, “which should tell you, my sweet baby, who we’re going to see.”

       Something dropped into Lian’s stomach at the same time that Jordan’s eyes lit up, shooting a delighted grin Lian’s way. They stepped through the transporter, feeling it do its topsy-turvy damage to their stomachs, and stepped out into what seemed to be the center of a hollowed-out mountain, light flooding down from an open volcano-like skylight at the top.

       “What is this?” demanded Lian. The walls that rose up starkly above them were made of craggy stone, and there was technological-looking paneling beneath them, and they were alone.

       Cheshire answered simply, “The Rock of Gibraltar.”

       As Lian’s eyebrows rose, Jordan laughed and lifted into the air, heading for the open mouth at the top of the mountain. A moment later, xe called, “ _Ouch_!” as xe hit an invisible forcefield which sent xyr reeling back to the floor; at the same moment, a door opened out of what looked like sheer rock, and a woman entered with a hulking figure beside her, followed by her guard.

       “It’s artificial light,” said Talia al Ghul, stopping ten paces before them. “A computer-generated skyscape. We’re two miles below ground.”

       Lian could tell when Jordan recognized the woman, because xe let out a triumphant little, “Ha!” and punched Lian in the shoulder, probably softly by xyr own standards, but Lian was only human and she was sure that was going to bruise terribly. “I told you so!” said Jordan, under xyr breath.

       “Jade,” said Talia, dark eyes raking over the three of them. “Nice of you to drop in. I suppose hoping you’d call first was expecting too much of you.” Glancing at Lian, she said “You as well, Arsenal.”

       “Haven’t you heard?” asked Lian. “It’s Agent Harper now.”

       “Tell me,” Talia replied, but she looked almost bored, “which is more fun, working for me, or for my son’s father?”

       Helpfully, Jordan offered, “Most people would just say baby daddy,” and Talia gave xyr a withering glare. This time, Jordan did hold out xyr hand, and behind xyr Cheshire looked offended. “I’m Jordan,” xe said. “I know your son, he’s a dick.”

       Talia stared at her. Then she said: “Heretic.”

       The hulking figure beside her, face obscured by a frightening metal mask, cloaked in long white cloth – high quality, Lian thought whoever he was, he looked pretty good, and mentally filed the look away for her fashion line – he moved forwards towards Jordan. He reached out, and clasped his fingers around xyr arm.

       Immediately, Heretic’s metal mask clanged loudly against the floor as Jordan threw him down, wrenching his arm back, standing lightly on his back. Xe snickered, then let go of his arm, stepped off his back, and once more held xyr hand out to Talia.

       This time, Talia took it. “What was your name again?”

       “Jordan Joyce,” xe replied cheerfully, “A.K.A. Jabberwock, non-binary godthing, child of Athena.”

       Talia’s eyebrows rose, and, still shaking Jordan’s hand, she leaned in. “Tell me, Jabberwock, are you currently seeking employment?”

       “No,” said Lian, before either of them could continue. Shouldering past the massive man-beast Talia had called Heretic, she sidled up between the two of them. “Talia, we’re here on business,” she said. “There’s a very bad thing happening to the Multiverse, and for some reason my mother thinks you might have information that can help us.”

       At the mention of the Multiverse, something might have sparked in Talia’s eyes. “Leave us,” she said. The guards behind her did not hesitate, only turned to leave. The thing which had tried to attack Jordan also began to lumber out of the place, but Talia said, “Not you, Heretic.” Gesturing to all of them, she said, “Come with me.”

       In the elevator, Talia glanced at Cheshire. “I’m impressed you came to me directly,” she told her. “There aren’t many alive who know about my bio-tombs.”

       “Tombs?” echoed Lian. “What tombs?”

       “Don’t speak over your elders,” said Talia to Lian, calmly. Addressing Cheshire, she continued, “Who told you? I need to have them killed.”

       “Nobody told me, Talia,” sighed Cheshire, in reply. Behind them, Heretic stood silently and stoically; Jordan glanced back at him, one eyebrow raised. “You don’t think I can find out on my own?”

       “How is it that a retired assassin can know so many secrets?”

       “It’s part of the deal I made,” Cheshire replied, a sly smirk on her face, never taking her eyes off Talia. “As long as I know everything about everyone, my dear sweet daughter here keeps me out of prison. Now I didn’t know _superheroes_ ,” she said it with poison, like how someone might say a particularly offensive epithet, “cut deals with terrorists, but then again, my defense attorney in the court of humanitarian law advised me not to call myself that.”

       She grinned, and Lian thought she saw the hint of a smile on Talia’s face. As the elevator stopped, they stepped into a grand marble hallway, so unlike the flat expanse of a corridor in which they’d been earlier. Heading to a pair of ornate doors, Jordan tugged Lian back a little and pointed at the two women before them. Xe whispered, “They _totally_ boinked.”

       Lian made a face part shock, part disgust, then shook her head. “Talia al Ghul is way too good for my mother-”

       Heretic caught up with them, silently looming above the two of them. Lian glanced up at him once, then turned and hurriedly walked towards Talia and Chesh; Jordan, on the other hand, folded xyr arms and floated up a few feet into the air, so xe was taller than the thing.

       Approaching the wide doors, Talia glanced behind her then asked, “Where’s your girlfriend?”

       This was not meant as denigration: the last time Lian had worked with Talia, she was still dating Iris. Keeping Iris out of their missions had been a part of the deal she made with the League of Assassins. “We aren’t together,” Lian answered shortly.

       Talia did not seem entirely upset at this. “Forgive me if I take that as good news, Arsenal,” she said. “I always thought that girl would be a good match for Damian.”

       “Genetically speaking, of course,” added Lian sarcastically, and Talia chuckled.

       “Don’t tell me you wouldn’t care to see what the child of a speedster and a Bat could be.”

       “Not under your hand, Talia.”

       With a genuine smile, Talia opened the doors before them. They were in a large room, circular and lined by pillars. Talia led them in, and Lian almost tripped – the floor below them was uneven. She looked down to see a vast sloped expanse of brown and blue, of land and water, a world map cut neatly out and lain across the floor. They entered in the Pacific Ocean, just before the west coast of the United States. Talia led them in gently, as if she loved this place, as if it held many sweet memories for her.

       When they had all entered, Heretic closed the doors behind them, and stood before them.

       She asked, “Did you ever get a chance to meet my son, Jade?”

       “Once,” answered Cheshire. “I trained him in synthetic poisons, under Męka.”

        Lian had not known this, and Damian had never told her.

       “Then you all know him,” continued Talia. “You know how he is important, and powerful, and irreplaceable. Any threats to the contrary are and always have been idle.”

       Another something Lian had not known; she knew that Damian had held for many years a deep fear of the thought of his mother abandoning him, growing a new son from scratch. The thought of a clone-brother haunted him, not so much out of fear of being replaced, she thought, and more because he hated the idea of another child like him, another child raised in blood and steel, a child he caused, but could not save. It ate at his compassion and pricked at the fine film which protected his paper-thin ego, so easily wounded at the idea of a self out there that did not belong to him.

       “Apparently,” began Talia, her voice quiet, “I was not as benevolent in all the different worlds in which I bore a son.”

       Lian did not understand this for a long moment, and then Talia looked beyond the three of them before her, and, confused, Lian slowly turned around. Heretic stood at the door, wearing his metal helmet, eyes glowing phosphorescent red.

       Slowly, he reached up and removed the helmet from his head.

       Lian felt her heartbeat slow, and for a moment, she could not draw breath.

       Weakly, she looked back at Talia, her expression begging for an explanation.

       “He appeared in this room almost three years ago,” she began, “with the force of a blast that nearly destroyed the entire compound. Needless to say, we rebuilt.” Her eyes once again flickered to the man at the back of the room, the huge, hulking figure with Damian’s face, apart from hair shorn close to the scalp, and an empty, scarred left eyesocket. “But I did not know what to do with Heretic.”

       “He’s not Heretic,” said Lian, swallowing hard against the pain that felt like crushed glass in her chest. She crossed the room to him and took hold of his arm and, defiantly, she said, “He’s _Damian_.”

       “No,” said Talia. “He’s not.”

       Lian looked up at the not-Damian, the Heretic. His jaw was squarer than Damian, his body bigger, his eyes wider, like a child’s.

       “He’s what Damian might have been,” she continued, while Lian stared at up him, her heart breaking. “If I had been…less kind, and more terrible. It’s true: we mothers can be monsters. But we do our best to keep our children from committing our same mistakes. This…creature comes from a place where I thought I was without fault, a place where I thought that being a mother meant producing a soldier, not a son.”

       “Sons,” said Heretic, “are born to die in war.”

       It was the first time he had spoken, and appeared to be some sort of automatic response triggered by Talia’s speech. He sounded like Damian, except not; like Damian, if Damian spoke very little, if Damian only ever repeated the same sentence over and over again, reduced to a single thought by years of conditioning. Lian had to look away, covering her face with one hand, unable to bear the weight of knowing that this is what Damian almost became.

       Cheshire looked from Heretic to Lian to Talia. “I don’t think it’s a terrible sentiment,” she said.

       Jordan crossed the room, and punched her in the face. With a breathless shout, Cheshire fell to the textured floor, clutching at her bleeding nose, cursing at Jordan.

       Talia glanced down at her without pity.

       “How do you know he’s from a different universe?” asked Lian, wishing Heretic would replace the helmet on his head.

       “He doesn’t talk much, but we pieced together that his world had been falling apart when he was transported here,” answered Talia. “It seemed like the logical end, especially given his…” her lip curled, and she said, “predecessors.”

       “Predecessors? What does that mean?”

       “It means,” said Talia, and she turned, crossed the world, and produced a key, “that he wasn’t the first.”

       The key unlocked a door set into the wall so well that it was practically invisible. The room seemed dark, and appeared to glow green before her. Lian followed her in.

       In the low, artificial light of a laboratory, it took Lian’s eyes a few moments to adjust to the darkness. Then she uttered a low gasp: surrounding them were dozens of bio-tombs, orbs and cases filled with translucent greenish liquid in which floated ugly, deformed, torn-up bodies, preserved as if they were sleeping. Some had two heads, brain-like growths splitting their skulls, thick necks bearing small, baby-like features; their eyes bulged even in death, their eyelids held half-open in the viscous liquid.

       “Most of them reached this universe alive,” said Talia gravely. “It was as if they were unaligned to their universe, broken on a subatomic level.” In a rush of sense memory, Niloufar’s words about Mar’i came back to Lian. _Like her atoms are slanted all the wrong ways_. Talia paused, then said: “None of them survived their first week. Not until Heretic.”

       “Is that what you called him?” Lian shot at her, the corpses around them digging barbs deep into her heart.

       “No,” answered Talia stonily. “I called him Damian. You know what he said, when I called him that?”

       Lian did not know.

       “He said,” continued Talia, “ _I killed him, Mother. For you._ ”

       She stood there, watching Lian, silhouetted by the green glow from the tubes which held so many versions of her dead son.

       “Now,” she said, “I call him Heretic.”

       They took the transporter codes back to Cheshire’s hideout, but Talia insisted on keeping Jade with her, calling on her own medics to tend to her broken nose. As Jordan and Lian headed into the transporters, Lian glanced back for just one moment – she saw Talia lean in towards Cheshire, gently wiping the blood off her face. Her gaze flickered down for one second to Cheshire’s lips, and then Lian was gone, torn through space to return to her mother’s empty safehouse beneath Morningstar Cemetery, where Lian’s fake body had been buried.

       “Christ,” she murmured. “They _did_ boink.”

 


	12. MY WAY

_Yes, there were times, I'm sure you knew_   
_When I bit off more than I could chew_   
_But through it all, when there was doubt_   
_I ate it up and spit it out_   
_I faced it all and I stood tall and did it_   
_My way_

\----

       All four of them were up in the air less than six hours later.

       Lian had at first been reticent to tell the tale, but after the first five minutes she realized that Jordan had been transmitting a running commentary to Niloufar the whole time through their psychic link. “We must’ve been five thousand miles away,” said Lian, but more in awe than suspicion. “You could still hear each other?”

       “You know what they say,” said Jordan, wrapping an arm around Niloufar’s shoulders proudly. “Absence makes the heart really effing good at picking up psychic connections.”

       Mar’i nodded wisely, as if this made perfect sense, and Lian couldn’t even roll her eyes. Once they were all on the plane, Mar’i sat beside Lian in the cockpit, Niloufar and Jordan behind them. Glancing over at the alien next to her, Lian asked, “Was there a Talia al Ghul in your universe?”

       For a long moment, watching the stars above them, Mar’i considered this question. Then she answered, “There must have been. I didn’t know her, and I never got the impression Ibn did either. He became the Demon’s Head when he killed his grandfather. I know nothing about his mother.”

       “Hm,” replied Lian shortly. She could not decide if Mar’i’s world was better or worse for the absence of the woman.

       “Where does that leave us?” asked Niloufar, arms folded. “We still don’t have any leads.”

       “I know,” answered Lian, flipping a few switches on the control panel, piloting with expertise. “But we need to refuel.”

       “I thought all of Batman’s shit was supposed to be all eco-friendly,” Jordan piped up, lying back in the air, floating as usual.

       “It is,” said Lian. “Hybrid electro-solar power. Theoretically it can run on solar energy alone, but I’d rather not risk it in case of emergency, so we need a place to recharge.” Scanning coordinates through a radar, she murmured, “But I’m not sure where we can go. By now Checkmate’s probably raided my safehouses, my dad’s, and all of Damian’s that they can find.”

       Niloufar asked, “What about the ones they can’t find?”

       “Those are useless,” Lian replied, “because even I don’t know where they are.”

       “I might have someplace,” said Mar’i.

       They all glanced at her, Lian and Jordan skeptically, Niloufar with something almost resembling pity. “No offense,” said Jordan, in a tone that did not at all reflect the sentiment, “but you’ve only been out of that containment cell at STAR for like, a week. When did you have time to set up a safehouse?”

       “I didn’t,” replied Mar’i, turning around to look at Niloufar and Jordan, her long hair flickering at the ends, like cool flames. “But my universe isn’t so different from yours, is it? For a long time, our worlds followed the same path, but somewhere along the way it diverged. Maybe at my birth or maybe before, but my parents, for example, existed in both our universes. Who’s to say that their lives were completely different?”

       A crease in her brow as she considered this, Lian asked, “What’s your point?”

       “I know where we can go,” said Mar’i. Leaning forward, she began to type coordinates into the jet’s system. “In my world, my father had an underground bunker that nobody knows about except for him and Grandpa – I mean, Batman.” _Batman_ , as a grandpa. Now that was something. Mar’i continued, “It’s got to be one of the most secure strongholds along the Eastern Seaboard. My father always said, if anything were to happen – you know, to _really_ happen, end-of-the-world happen – then I would be safe there. And I know we can refuel there, too.”

       Lian didn’t like the idea of going to a safehouse that belonged to Dick Grayson, not after the troubling places he’d shown up so far. “It’s a long shot,” she said. “Let’s keep our options open for right now, but-”

       “The point’s moot, anyway,” said Niloufar, nodding at the coordinates Mar’i had inputted. Lian glanced at them; she could not immediately place where they were, but Niloufar continued, “That would land us in the middle of Blüdhaven.”

       “Right,” said Mar’i, nodding her head. “My father worked there when he was younger-”

       “Blüdhaven’s radioactive,” said Niloufar bluntly. “Wayne Enterprises did some experimental procedures to neutralize what they could after the first Crisis,” _first_ , Lian knew, was relative, but she didn’t comment on this, “and to keep it from spreading to Gotham, but the place is practically a ghost town now. Prolonged exposure could be fatal.”

       Mar’i looked confused. “There was a nuclear disaster, years ago now,” said Lian. “It was Deathstroke, I think.”

       “Nah,” said Jordan, “wasn’t it your mom?”

       “No,” replied Mar’i, gaping with offense.

       “Not _your_ mom-”

       “In any case,” said Niloufar, “we can’t go there. So we have to find somewhere else.”

       Lian thought about this for just a moment. Dick Grayson had abandoned Blüdhaven years ago – the legend, as it was still told amongst the superheroing circles even after all these years, went that Superman himself had to drag Nightwing out of the city, tear him away before the radiation killed him. With a deep stab of empathy, Lian was sure that Dick had broken himself apart that day, unable to save so many. On the bright side, this meant he’d probably have no desire to return to the place.

       “But,” said Lian, and Niloufar looked at her, immediately readying a protest. Lian held up a hand and said, “Hear me out. An underground bunker is exactly the kind of safehouse that would’ve survived a nuclear attack – that might’ve been what it was built for in the first place. And assuming there’s any tech at all left there, it could really help us out. I don’t have to tell you that the Batfam keeps some wild toys.”

       Still, Niloufar looked unsure. “Besides,” added Lian. “Iris won’t follow us there.”

       Jordan lowered xyrself to the ground, gently alighting on the jet’s smooth floor. “Why not?” xe asked.

       “She can’t get too close to Gotham,” answered Lian. “This fracture in the universe – the point of origin is there.”

       “Point of origin?” echoed Mar’i. “You mean Ibn?”

       “Damian,” Lian corrected. “Yeah, he’s there, and Irey can’t get near him without being overwhelmed from white noise reverberating off of him.”

       “Iris is helping us,” said Niloufar. “Why would we want to keep her out of this?”

       “Are you kidding?” asked Jordan; once again, xe lifted off the floor, sliding down to lie in an invisible hammock. “Baby Flash has been keeping secrets from the start. Frankly I’d be happy to get rid of her.”

       Stonily, Niloufar argued, “She helped me try to jumpstart your atomic stasis, Mar’i-”

       “Yeah,” interrupted Lian; she flipped a switch, setting the plane on autopilot, and turned around in her seat. Leaning her elbows on her knees, she said to Niloufar, “And how did that turn out? You’re the scientist, can _you_ explain what happened back there?”

       Niloufar didn’t answer, but Lian could see that she was faltering. “I’m a doctor,” she grumbled. “Not a theoretical physicist.”

       Lian was utterly disappointed at Niloufar’s failure to make a Star Trek reference, but she set that aside. “I appreciate Iris,” she continued. “Hell, for a long time I loved her. But I also know that she’s hiding something from us, something important. Something that could be dangerous for all of us.”

       “Danger,” echoed Jordan sarcastically. “Wonder what that feels like.”

       “Why not just go to Gotham then? We can use the Haven.”

       Quietly, Lian grit her teeth. It frustrated her that Niloufar could never just agree to her plan, but in actuality it was probably a strength: every team needed a member to question the decisions, just to make sure the right ones were being made. On the Titans, she had been that dissenting member to Damian’s leader, and he had absolutely hated her for it, but even he couldn’t deny that it had led to their improvement.

       “You think we could actually get into Gotham without Batman finding us out?” she asked, seriously. “There’s no way. I’m not dragging Damian back into this, and I’m not about to let his father fight our battles for us. Blüdhaven is a good idea. We’ll be safe there.”

       Even as she said this, she also thought that she could absolutely make a short detour into Gotham, once they were there; Talia had left her with a letter sealed in an ivory-colored envelope for her son, clasping her hand as she asked, gravely, if Lian would ask Damian if he wanted to see it. It would be good to check in on Damian anyway, make sure he was OK – to her knowledge, he was not out in Gotham, and so she doubted he had anyone with which to talk about his failed romance with Adam.

       So they agreed to Blüdhaven, and rerouted their course. Given that Lian did not wish to waste any more of the jet’s energy, she set it on power conservation mode, which meant that it went considerably slower than its top speed so it would be several hours until they made it to the East Coast. In the meanwhile, Mar’i slept some more; Jordan called xyr sister in Gotham, and from the sound of conversation got to talk to all of xyr sister’s children as well, which left xyr peaceful and content, an easy smile on xyr face.

       A few hours later, Niloufar was going through the constellations, pointing them out to Mar’i. When she got to Perseus, she took pause.  “That bright one there is Algol,” she said. “But you probably know that.”

       “An eclipsing binary,” sighed Mar’i, with a wistful smile. “It’s a beautiful place. I should take you all someday.”

       A grin tugging at the corners of her lips, Lian glanced around at Mar’i. “You’ve been to Algol? Like, the star Algol?”

       “Of course,” answered Mar’i, as if it made perfect sense, then she made a face and shrugged. “Well, it was a pocket dimension – a piece of the star somewhere else. My uncle Vic helped me make it for Ibn. It’s where our child was conceived.”

       Jordan laughed heartily at this, and Niloufar wrinkled her nose. Lian chuckled. “TMI, sweetheart,” she said.

       Mar’i looked like she didn’t understand this, and then her face lit up, staring out once more into the night sky. “A shooting star!” she sighed, and then, excitedly, she got out of her seat, darting to the jet’s hatch.

       “Mar’i!” called Lian, looking behind her, alarmed. “What are you doing?”

       The alien grinned at them all, then heaved the hatch open. Above the rushing sound of wind beneath the plane, she shouted, “I’m going to chase it!” and then she disappeared, and the hatch banged shut behind her.

       Again, Jordan laughed, so hard xe wiped tears from xyr eyes. Fondly, xe asked, “She’s incredible, isn’t she?”

       In front of the jet, Mar’i’s fiery purple figure shot across their path, heading into the night sky. “Yeah,” said Lian softly. “She is.”

       It wasn’t five minutes later that the jet shook ever so much, and a new figure materialized on deck, body shivering with speed. “Rude,” said Iris. “You could’ve told me you were leaving.”

       Lian didn’t answer, then switched autopilot on and turned around once more. “Does it matter?” she asked. “You found us, so.”

       Warily, Iris eyed Lian. “You went to Talia al Ghul?”

       Although phrased as such, it was not quite a question. “Yes,” answered Lian anyway. “Jordan came with me. We had a blast.”

       “Supervillainesses,” Jordan said, although Iris didn’t turn to look at xyr, “are actually pretty much just as cool as you’d think they are.”

       “And?” asked Iris, striking eyes still focused on Lian. “What do you think?”

       “I think we’re damn lucky that Talia loves her son more in this universe than she did in any other,” Lian began, but Iris shook her head.

       “I mean about the why. _Why_ Heretic. _Why_ Damian.”

       Lian didn’t understand. “What do you mean?” she asked. It hurt her that Iris seemed to be waiting for her to make a connection that wasn’t obvious, to see the frustration in Iris's eyes that made Lian feel so clueless.

       To Lian’s surprise, Niloufar leapt to her defense. “You mean why would the Multiverse try and bring those other versions of Damian into our world?” she asked, and Iris looked at her, observed her for a long moment, then nodded. “It doesn’t really make sense to me,” said Niloufar, refusing to look back at Iris, addressing Lian. “Even if Damian does have something to do with the anomaly that the Multiverse is trying to correct, why would it suddenly switch from clones of him to Mar’i, of all people?”

       “Well,” said Jordan fairly, “wasn’t Mar’i hooking up with alternate-universe Damian? Maybe that’s who the Multiverse was aiming for, and their aim just…sucks.”

       “Why would the alternate versions of him cross in the first place?” murmured Lian, a frown on her face. “How could they possibly resolve whatever this anomaly is?”

       “But they’re aren't actually alternate versions of him,” offered Niloufar. “They’re clones of alternate-version him.”

       “That’s right,” said Jordan, floating in the air, slowly rotating upside down. Xyr head leveled off with Iris, who glanced to look at xyr. Jordan smiled at her, then continued, “You heard what Talia said – Heretic killed the Damian in his universe. And he had those weird baby eyes – I bet he’s a lot younger than Damian is, like a replacement son, not Damian himself.”

       Iris said nothing, standing still in the jet, watching them piece the puzzle together.

       Mumbling, Lian thought aloud. “A replacement…son…”

       Something struck her like diamond against glass, shattering into a dawning realization. “Oh my God,” she said. “Oh my God. Irey.”

       “What?” asked Niloufar. “What is it?”

       “That’s it, isn’t it?” asked Lian. “That’s the thing Damian didn’t do.”

       “What?” demanded Jordan, spinning around, landing toughly on xyr feet.

       “A _son_ ,” repeated Lian, staring at Iris in disbelief. “Four years ago in our universe, Damian was meant to have a son. When he didn’t, it destabilized our world – if you hadn’t brought the Speed Force here, placing us at the center of the Multiverse, then our universe would’ve been destroyed. Since then the entire Multiverse has been trying to correct the mistake – trying to get his child into our world.”

       It suddenly made perfect sense. Iris said nothing, but something in her eyes told Lian that she was right.

       “First it was the clones,” she continued, the pieces falling into place. “They’re technically his genetic offspring, and from the look of it there were plenty of them, little Damians to spare. But that didn’t fix it, so when Heretic survived and the universe didn’t re-stabilize itself, the Multiverse had to move on to something else. That’s why Mar’i is here – the Multiverse wasn’t aiming for her, it was aiming for her child! She was pregnant with Damian’s son just weeks ago, but it must be – I don’t know, it must be difficult to drag someone from one universe into another, or something, and that’s why the Multiverse has failed so many times-”

       Doubtfully, Jordan asked, “Since when is the Multiverse sentient?”

       A creeping sort of something, like iciness, swept through the room. Lian didn’t answer, still in shock from her revelation. She looked up. Iris stood there, and she did not flicker. She was as still as Lian had ever seen her.

       Quietly, Iris said: “It’s not.”

       It took a long time for these words to filter into Lian’s head, for the meaning to percolate through her mind and float to the top. Her eyes widened.

       “You did this,” said Lian, her voice hushed. “You brought Damian’s clones here, and Heretic, and – and Mar’i. _You_ caused their worlds to implode.”

       “I said it was my fault,” answered Iris, sounding impatient. “That’s the first thing I said to her. I apologized. And I am sorry. If it could have been any other way-”

       Lian’s voice rang out through the jet. “You could have _not done it_ , Irey!”

        “That’s very noble, Lian,” answered Iris, with an ugly snarl, “but if it’s us or them, _my_ universe is always going to come first. I knew what I was getting into when I took the Speed Force into my body. Do you think it’s been easy? I have to fight through time and space to get every _single_ body into this universe, and no matter how hard I try I always seem to get it wrong. I don’t want to do this anymore,” she said, loudly, her voice booming with the crackling lightning of the Speed Force itself, “which is why I need to access Betweenspace, so I can cut off the problem at its source, get rid of whoever’s pulling at the strings of the universe, and get things back to normal.”

       There was silence.

       Then Jordan said, “Hey, this is all pretty big-time stuff for a small-town god like myself, but I got a question.”

       Without looking away from Lian, Iris said, “Shoot.”

       “You used to date Damian, right?”

       This question seemed out-of-place, so both Iris and Lian turned to look at Jordan, confusion plain on their faces.

       Without hesitating, Jordan elaborated, “I mean, creating a kid isn’t really a solo gig, know what I mean? You keep talking Damian, but what about the other parent?” Xe paused, then added, “What I’m getting at is, is this a breakup-revenge thing? Are _you_ the mom?”

       “She can’t be,” said Lian, before Iris could reply; Iris shot her a glare, and Lian took it, glancing away, regretting that she answered so quickly.

       Both Jordan and Niloufar took pause at this, waiting for an explanation. Iris gave it to them. “Rapid aging screwed up my internal organs,” she told them. “I can’t have children.”

       “That’s a good question,” mused Niloufar, tapping her chin thoughtfully. “It does seem kind of odd that the Multiverse would fixate on the father and not whoever was meant to carry the child.”

       “Four years ago he was still with Ellen, right?” asked Jordan, glancing at xyr girlfriend for confirmation, which Niloufar gave in the form of a nod.

       “But that can’t be right,” Niloufar said. “Ellen’s trans, she can’t conceive either.”

       They both looked at Lian pointedly.

       “What?” asked Lian, blinking. “Oh, God, no. If it’s my sexual orientation against the universe, I’m OK with dying, as long as I die gay.”

       “It’s not you either,” said Iris. “I’d be able to feel it, the same way I do for Damian.”

       “If you can tell that, why can’t you just find the mother?”

       “For that exact reason,” answered Iris. “I was able to pick out Damian because I know him so well, it was like I recognized his voice in all the reverberations. But I can’t get too close to the source of the anomaly or I start to lose my abilities. I’ve never been close enough to find out who the other party is, and whoever it is, I don’t recognize their voice.”

       “Excuse me,” said Niloufar, getting to her feet.

       Iris glanced around at her, but did not turn to face her.

       “If you knew the whole time, why didn’t you ever clue us in? And what did you do back in Green Lantern’s safehouse? I was trying to help you. What’s the point in keeping secrets from us?”

       For the first time since she had shown up in the jet, Iris flickered.

       Crossing her legs and leaning back in her seat, Lian said, “She has a point, you know. You can run if you want, but even if you’re holding all the cards, now we all know you’re playing with a stacked deck. Might as well own up to it, Irey.”

       This time, the flicker was not in Iris’s form: it was in her voice. “I need to get to Betweenspace,” she said, beseechingly. “I’m prepared to do whatever it takes to get there, but I wasn’t sure that you were. When you’re as powerful as I am, you stop relying on other people. Things just seem easier that way.”

       Lian was not sure how much of that was crap and how much was genuine emotion, but she had known Iris for many years, and was willing to give her the benefit of the doubt.

       “We’re still on your side,” she said. “We’ll help you.”

       “But from now on,” added Jordan, “you gotta be honest with us, kiddo.”

       “Not too honest,” said Niloufar, arms thoughtfully crossed. “Mar’i is still mourning for her world and her child, even though she doesn’t show it. For now, it might be best for her if we keep this particular piece of information to ourselves.”

       “That’s not fair,” protested Jordan. Gesturing at Iris, xe continued, “Speedy McUniverse Flash here just tried to nab Mar’i’s baby right out from between her legs, and we’re not going to tell her about it? That’s some bullshit.”

       “What good would it do? It would only hurt her more-” Niloufar and Jordan began to argue, as they were wont to do, but Lian kept her eyes on Iris. The woman flickered once more, then again, staring off beyond the jet’s stark walls. Suddenly, her eyes narrowed.

       Faster than Lian could blink, Iris was immediately beside Lian at the front of the plane. “Where are you going?” she demanded, splaying her hands across the control panels.

       “The plane needs to recharge,” answered Lian. “And we can’t fly forever. We mere mortals – I mean, not counting Jordan – need food, and a place to sleep.”

       “I didn’t _ask_ you what you need, I asked you where you’re going.”

       Again, a flicker, except it was more shimmery this time, as if there were many Irises at once, like in cartoon depictions of a bell vibrating as it rang. Iris’s skin was ashen, betraying how the sudden loss of control frightened her.

       So, to reciprocate for the almost-sincerity Iris had given them tonight, Lian decided not to lie. “We’re going to Blüdhaven,” she said. “We’ll lie low for a while until we figure out where to go next.”

       “You can’t go to _Blüdhaven_ ,” Iris said bluntly, shaking her head. “I told you to stay away from Gotham. Being too close will ruin everything I’m trying to-”

       “Relax, Irey,” said Lian, leaning towards her, trying to take hold of her hand. “I know you’re out of practice, but just try to trust us. Now that you’ve told us everything you know, we know what we’re doing.”

       This was a guilt trip meant to emotionally manipulate Iris into confessing whatever else she was holding back. Lian was not particularly proud to be doing it, but it needed to be done.

       Irey did not respond in kind; in fact, she hardly responded at all. With one flat palm, she smacked her hand down onto the control panel angrily. “I told you not to, Lian,” she said, and Lian was taken aback by the genuine fury in her voice. “I’m trying to _help_ you, and you’re trying to – you want me to lose control again, don’t you?”

       “What?” asked Lian, confused. “Irey, no-”

       At that moment, a purplish light flashed across the jet’s path, and then the hatch opened and Mar’i appeared, lighting the small deck with her glow. Delightedly, she began, “Iris-!” but the speedster cut her off: Iris waved one hand forcefully across her body, and Mar’i was thrown violently into the wall of the jet, hard enough that the entire plane tipped slightly with the imbalance.

       “ _Iris!_ ” shouted Lian, over the rushing noise of the jet’s hatch, which Mar’i had left open. Getting to her feet, Lian held tightly onto the ship’s walls to steady herself, mind racing. “What are you doing!”

       Eyes glowing golden-yellow, lightning energy crackling around her body, Iris’s face contorted into a scowl and she said, voice echoing, “I told you _not to go to Gotham_ -”

       Instantly, her gaze ripped from Lian to where Niloufar crouched, hanging onto a seat to keep her steady in the whipping wind of the open hatch: her eyes were set in concentration, and a trickle of blood dripped from her nostril as she tried to enter Iris’s mind, to control her from the inside out.

       This, Niloufar could not have known, was a berserk button for Iris, a reminder of the violation she had suffered at Lian’s own hands when they had been on the Titans together. Lian, under the drugged influence of her mother, had implanted a psychic trigger into Iris’s mind to use her to destroy their team. Damian, at least, had never forgiven Lian for her particular choice in trigger words, which had implicated him and perverted the love that he and Iris had once had: _Beloved_.

       With a swift single movement, Iris threw Niloufar too against the side of the jet as well, fire burning in her eyes, and Jordan said, “OK, _that’s_ it,” and tore a seat off of the floor (just, Lian suspected, for the effect), then launched xyrself at Iris.

       Iris threw xyr to the floor and stepped on xyr throat. Jordan threw her foot off, but Iris’s expression barely changed as she did nothing more than reach out and place her hand on Jordan’s face, shooting an electric charge through xyr body. Jordan collapsed, and Lian shouted, “Iris!” and before she knew what she was doing, her hands collided with Iris’s shoulders, hard, and she pushed the other woman violently backwards.

       Iris stared at her with a swaying, reptilian gaze. Over the wailing wind, she began, “Don’t _push_ me, Lian-” but Lian did not listen to her; she did, in fact, the opposite of listen to her, and once again rammed hard into Iris’s body, knocking her off balance, sending her stumbling backwards-

       Then suddenly, frighteningly, she was gone. For one moment Lian thought that she had disappeared, ran away like she always did, and then she realized that the plane’s hatch door was still open, and that Iris hadn’t ran – she’d _fallen_.

       Instantly she was on the ground, clutching the sides of the plane’s hatch. “Iris!” she shouted hoarsely into the dark nighttime sky beneath them. “ _Iris!_ ”

       Despite the fact that the woman had just thrown her against a wall, Mar’i appeared and, without a word, slipped past Lian, down into the vast, empty sky below them. Shaking with adrenaline and fear, Lian fell back onto the jet’s floor, knowing that anything she could do she had already done.

       It was a few minutes later that Mar’i returned. Empty-handed, she closed the hatch behind her.

       “I couldn’t find her,” she said quietly. “But I checked the ground too, and I didn’t see a body. With all her power, she probably ran.”

       Lian said nothing. On either side of them, both Niloufar and Jordan were still unconscious. Sensing her exhaustion and her shame, Mar’i reached out and simply put her arms around Lian, holding her together. “Yeah,” muttered Lian, into Mar’i’s embrace. “She probably ran.” Gently, Mar’i stroked her hair, the warmth of her skin soothing, the sound of her heartbeat a steady rhythm.

_Probably._

 


	13. DIE YOUNG

_I hear your heart beat to the beat of the drums_   
_Oh, what a shame that you came here with someone_   
_So while you're here in my arms,_   
_Let's make the most of the night like we're gonna die young_

\----

       They reached Blüdhaven in morning light. It had only been a few days since Irey had appeared in her apartment and told her to go to STAR Labs to fetch whomever it was they were keeping there. And now Lian burned with guilt, knowing that Iris was probably fine, but if she was not, Lian was to blame.

       Behind Lian, Mar’i was curled up in one of the seats, asleep. As she slept, she made small purring sounds like those of a contented cat. Lian too began to wish she could sleep, which was an indication of weakness to which she was not accustomed – her super-vigilante upbringing, her superspy career, and two years living with Damian Wayne had taught her how to function without sleep for days. Just as her eyes began to feel too heavy to keep open, and she reached over to turn autopilot on, sensors started going off in the cockpit. An electronic voice informed her that radiation levels were rising rapidly.

       “We’re approaching Blüdhaven,” she said aloud, glancing back at her passengers. “I’m enabling our shields now.”

       The electronic voice disagreed with her. “ _Due to low power, radiation shields are currently at 90% capability_.”

       “Ninety is OK,” said Lian to the others. “As long as it doesn’t fall below seventy, we should be safe.” At Lian’s voices, Mar’i blinked awake, stretching in her seat. Seeing her, Lian asked, “Mar’i, what’s the safest entrance to your dad’s safe house?”

       “It’s under the bay,” answered Mar’i.

       “That’s smart,” said Niloufar. “Water is an incredibly effective shield against radiation.”

       Mar’i asked, “Is the Park Bridge still there?”

       “Eh, in a manner of speaking.”

       “There should be a secret entrance on the south side.”

       “Excellent, that’s the side that’s still standing. Is there a-”

       The jet lurched in air; Jordan, who had been hovering off the floor, banged xyr head on the ceiling and let out an angry oath, rubbing the bruise. Lights flickered, and then Lian stabilized the plane once more. “ _Radiation shields at 80% capacity_.”

       “What was that?” asked Niloufar cautiously, clutching onto the sides of her seat.

       “Did we hit a bird or something?” asked Jordan, but the joke was stale.

       Lian frowned at the controls before her. “I don’t know,” she answered.  “Too weak to be a surface-to-air missile, but it did some damage. Bazooka, maybe? Either way,” she added, “you all might want to buckle your seatbelts. This could get heavy.”

       “We’re over _Blüdhaven_ ,” said Niloufar, although she did buckle herself in. “If someone’s shooting from the ground, they’re either impervious to the radiation or they’re dying.”

       Lian pushed the jet faster, eager to get to the safehouse.

       This time when the jet shook, it also dropped, sending their stomachs into their throat. Lights flickered then stayed off, then were replaced with red reserve-power lighting. “ _Direct hit to starboard hull. Radiation shields at 75% capacity_.”

       Wrenching the controls, trying to keep her plane in the air, Lian snarled, “That was no bird – it was a Stinger, I’m sure of it.”

       “ _Stinger?_ ” echoed Niloufar, sounding stricken.

       “Infrared surface-to-air missile,” clarified Mar’i helpfully. “Portable, which means that someone has to be handling it on the ground – so you’re right, they’re either radiation-proof, or we just need to wait them out while the radiation poisons them to death.”

       Another hit, and this time Niloufar uttered a soft scream. Lian gritted her teeth, fighting against the altitude they were losing. They had dropped to a few hundred feet above the ground before she managed to level them out. “ _Radiation shields at 60% capacity._ ”

       “Unless the radiation kills us first,” Lian said. “We need to get to the safehouse. We can’t take any more hits.”

       “Let me out,” said Mar’i, getting out of her seat. “I’ll find whoever’s doing this and stop them. The radiation won’t bother me, my skin converts it to energy-”

       Still tightly buckled in, Niloufar reached out to grab Mar’i’s arm. “ _Nuclear_ radiation is a lot different from solar,” she told her urgently. “You might have some invulnerability due to your Tamaranean physiology, but you’re half human too. I’m the one charged with your safety, and I’m not letting you out there!”

       “Besides,” added Lian, at the controls, “we need you to get into the safehouse.” They probably didn’t, really, but Lian wanted to back Niloufar up.

       Next to Niloufar, Jordan unbuckled, floated gently above xyr seat. “That settles it,” xe said. “I’ll do it.”

       “ _No_ ,” said Niloufar, Mar’i, and Lian at the same time. Niloufar continued, “You’re half-human too, Jordan-”

       “Yeah,” xe replied, “but I’ve also got protection from the entire Greek pantheon. Figure one of them should cover nuclear radiation, right? Apollo, maybe? Zeus himself? Hey,” xe shrugged, “Thanatos if nobody else, am I right?”

       With uncharacteristic emotion, Niloufar unbuckled herself and got to her feet on her seat, reaching up to catching Jordan’s ankle. “No,” she repeated firmly, blinking away what might have been tears. “You could die.”

       Once more, the jet violently lurched with the force of another hit. Niloufar fell from her seat, and Jordan swooped around to catch her, cradling her gently in xyr arms. “ _Engine running on generator power. Emergency landing equipment damaged. Radiation shields at 55% capacity_.”

       Although Lian kept the plane in air, they were now flying lopsided, their starboard side drooping. Loudly, Lian called, “Another hit and we go down!”

       “Nilou,” said Jordan, as gentle as Lian had ever heard xyr, “you were right there with me when Wonder Woman told us about that time she lowered the rods on a nuclear reactor with her bare hands. If she can do that-”

       “There’s no guarantee!” hissed Niloufar, slapping one hand limply against Jordan’s chest. “I’m not about to let you throw away _immortality_ -”

       Jordan silenced her with a kiss. It was the first gesture of intimacy that Lian and Mar’i had witnessed between the two; feeling indecent, Lian focused on the control panel before her, but Mar’i watched them, reaching up to dab at her wet eyes.

       “Immortality is overrated anyway,” Jordan murmured. “I’m living as long as you are, and not a day more or less. I promise.”

       Niloufar didn’t answer. Then she said: “We’ll need a decontamination shower.”

       “There’s one at the safehouse,” offered Mar’i immediately. “Niloufar can guide you there with your psychic connection.”

       Jordan nodded, kissed Niloufar once more on her cheek, and then xe left. The hatch’s normal exit was buttressed by the radiation shield, which Lian split just barely open after the hatch had safely closed. They watched Jordan sweep beneath the jet, and then xe disappeared.

       They reached the safehouse without further incident. Sure enough, the bunker beneath the bay was impervious to the radiation above it. Lian had to wonder if the Bat Bunker beneath Wayne Tower was built with the same designs; the two were remarkably similar. Niloufar said very little, pale and stricken, but Lian supposed they would know if Jordan was dead: xyr connection with Niloufar would break, and the Niloufar's reaction would be visceral.

       Finally, Niloufar got to her feet. “Xe’s back,” she said, her voice tight.

       They met Jordan before the decontamination showers. Behind the glass, xe grinned and gave them a thumbs up, lugging something big and metallic behind xyr.

       Jordan placed xyr hand against the glass opposite of Niloufar as Lian activated the shower. Xe said something, but the thick glass between them muffled her words. Beaming between them, Mar’i asked, “What did xe say?”

       Niloufar, who had let out a strangled laugh when she heard Jordan's words in her mind, placed her own hand on glass as well. “Xe said, _Like in that Star Trek movie_.”

       Mar’i looked happy, but very confused. Lian glanced up, unsure whether to smile or not. “Xe does know Spock dies in that movie, right?”

       Apparently Niloufar relayed this to Jordan, who looked at Lian in surprise. Behind the glass, Lian could read xyr lips. “I thought Captain Kirk was the one who died?”

       “Well,” responded Lian, as the decontamination shower began, “that depends if you’re talking about the original movie or the reboot, but either way, they just came back in the end. Kind of a cop-out if you ask me, but hey, at least it’s realistic.”

       Once Jordan was out of the shower and they provided her with new, uncontaminated clothes, they inspected the piece of equipment xe’d brought with xyr. “This is all I could find,” xe said. “Other than that the place is a total deadzone. I checked the whole city.”

       With a gentle slap, Niloufar said, “You could’ve come back sooner-”

       “Yeah, but, I didn’t,” replied Jordan, grinning, then xe leaned forward to kiss her once more on the lips.

       Meanwhile, Lian handled the piece of machinery; as she had suspected, it was an FIM-92 Stinger, although there seemed to be a number of alterations, including a small control panel which would allow for semi-long-distance remote launching. But this didn’t make sense; Jordan had found nothing in the surrounding area, but the controls couldn’t have handled a distance more than ten miles.

       Something struck her, and she looked up. “Jordan,” she said, “did you check the skies?”

       With a raised eyebrow, Jordan asked, “Why would I? You said it was a ground-to-air thing.”

       “Someone’s added a remote control to this,” said Lian. “That explains how they were launching a surface-to-air missile without being contaminated by the radiation – they must’ve been in the air the whole time. Could’ve been right next to us, but most of our tracking hardware was disabled to conserve energy, so the most basic cloaking measures would’ve hidden them from us.”

       “Do you recognize that?” asked Mar’i, pointing at a symbol embossed on the launcher itself. An eye, behind which a series of crisscross lines intersected. It seemed familiar, but she could not place it. She shook her head.

       “Oh, that?” asked Jordan, leaning over. “I’ve seen that before.”

       “What? Where?”

       Even Niloufar seemed surprised at this. “Yeah, in Ellen’s files. Under, whatsisname, you know. The guy who doesn’t work out of Gotham anymore.”

       This could be pretty much anyone, so Lian prompted, “Which guy? A Bat?”

       “Yeah,” answered Jordan, nodding xyr head. “The Bat. Not the Big Guy, but the little one, the one that took over back when Robin was still a small fry.”

       Lian blinked. “Dick?”

       “Woah,” said Jordan, “kinda harsh.”

       Lian stared at xyr, then shook her head, snapping out of her daze. “No,” she said. “Dick Grayson, Nightwing. He was Batman to Damian’s Robin for a few years.”

       “Yeah! That’s him. With the,” Jordan made a motion to indicate the blue V on Dick’s Nightwing costume, “and the fingerstripes?”

       Niloufar replied that Nightwing no longer had fingerstrips, and as usual they fell into bickering. Lian pondered this. She had access to Damian’s files, which were informed from his father’s, and thus were probably the most complete in the world. Despite that, she had never seen this sign before, certainly not under Dick’s name. Could Ellen possibly know something that Damian did not? And what’s more, would she have kept it from Damian, her ex-fiancé?

       “You should get some rest,” said Mar’i, tugging Lian away from the launcher. “You haven’t slept at all lately, I can tell it’s taking its toll on you. And we should recharge the jet, too.”

       Lian said nothing, then she stood up. “No use. It’s battered to hell, and radioactive too. At this point it’s barely more than scrap metal.”

       “What?” asked Niloufar, looking up. “If we don’t have the jet, how are we supposed to get out of here?”

       “Well,” said Lian. “We can’t. As of right now, we’re stuck.”

       “ _Stuck_ ’s a nice word for it,” said Jordan. “Somebody’s after us. _Trapped_ is more like it.”

       Lian didn’t answer this.

       At least the safehouse was well stocked and furnished. Although the food was mostly dehydrated or in cans, it was perfectly edible, and – bless the Batfam’s expensive taste, beneath the bunker itself was a set of full-furnished bedrooms, including a living space with a television.

       “Shit’s just not fair,” said Jordan, as Mar’i showed them all of this delightedly. “You got kids on the street, and like, an underground apartment down here? That’s bull.”

       Jordan seemed to be making a habit of noting things about the vigilante lifestyle Lian hadn’t quite thought of before, and again, Lian didn’t have a defense of this. “Not like there’s a lot of kids on the street right now,” she pointed out. “The city’s empty as it is down here.”

       Begrudgingly, Jordan muttered, “Still. Place could’ve been used after they dropped the bomb.”

       From across the living quarters, Niloufar said, “I…think it was.”

       They all turned around to face her. She pushed the television out of the way to reveal a hole bored into solid rock to forge a tunnel which eerily disappeared into darkness. Lifting off xyr feet, Jordan flew to her side, inspecting the edge of the tunnel with xyr augmented senses. “Looks like it was carved with laser vision,” xe said.

       “That makes sense,” replied Lian. “Superman assisted with the evacuation. He must’ve had access to this place, and carved a tunnel to safety.”

       “In which case, hundreds, if not thousands of people know about this safehouse,” said Niloufar, glancing back at Lian. “Which means it’s not at all as secret as we thought.”

       Lian considered this for a moment, then gave a helpless shrug. “We don’t have any other options,” she said. “Unless you want to follow that tunnel and hope it leads somewhere with a warm bed and a jet, we’ve just gotta take our chances.”

       Jordan and Niloufar looked at each other, seriously considering this option. Jordan began, “It probably goes to Gotham…”

       “…which _would_ be home territory,” continued Niloufar. “But this tunnel could lead anywhere. Knowing Superman and Batman, it might lead to the Batcave.”

       “And, of course,” said Lian, nodding reasonably at Jordan, “you hate Batman.”

       Jordan looked up at Lian with almost-disgust. “I don’t _hate_ Batman.”

       “Oh.” Lian had almost forgot – Jordan was a Gotham native, and Gothamites had nothing if not the Bat. “Isn’t he a little...bourgeois for you?”

       With a raised eyebrow and a look that made Lian think that maybe she didn’t understand Batman as well as she thought she did, Jordan asked, “You think _Batman_ is bourgeois?”

       Indignant, Lian began to retort, “I mean, you know who he is-” but Mar’i took her arm.

       “Let’s all get some rest,” she said. “We can plan our next steps in the morning, but for the time being we aren’t of any use to each other burnt out. And, also,” she added, “my back hurts so I want to lie down.”

       Niloufar and Jordan didn’t look exactly happy, but they nodded at one another, then Jordan pushed the television back into place to cover the giant gaping hole in the wall. “I might have more pain medication for you, Mar’i,” said Niloufar, but Mar’i just yawned and stretched up towards the ceiling, back arched like a cat.

       “Some rest is all I need,” she sighed. “I could use some sunlight too, but I can wait on that.”

       So they all agreed to sleep. Mar’i flew into one of the rooms and collapsed on the bed, sinking into the cold sheets. “Mmm,” she purred. “So soft.”

       Lian bade them goodnight (even though outside it was midday) and then retreated to a separate room by herself. After closing the door, she checked for any kind of locking mechanism at all, but could find none. Waiting for the buzz of Niloufar and Jordan’s conversation to die down, she slowly took off her boots and armored clothes and put them aside. Then she sat on the bed, back curled over a tablet which she laid out in front of her. Once all was silent, she tucked a commlink into her ear and touched the tablet’s screen. It lit up before her.

       “Call Black Queen,” she whispered.

       Maybe it was risky to try and contact Sasha Bordeaux when they were finally safe, but the more Lian thought about Rose Wilson’s attack on her childhood home, the more things didn’t add up. As Black Queen’s Bishop, Lian knew of no reason that Checkmate would want someone like Mar’i Grayson, certainly no reason that would cause them to try and shoot down a plane. If that had been them. If it wasn’t Dick Grayson.

       But why would Dick be involved in this at all? Jordan recognizing the symbol on the missile launcher didn’t seem to add up – if there was some organization out there that Dick Grayson would join, surely Lian would have known it. She was one step away from top security clearance in the most wide-reaching international spy agency in the entire world. How was it possible that there was still so much she did not know?

       In her ear, the ringing stopped, replaced by a tri-tonal beep. “ _We’re sorry_ ,” said a kind, automated voice. “ _The number you have called is no longer in service_.”

       Lian blinked. She hung up and called again. The same automated voice responded with the same message. She hung up, then set up a holographic conference through an emergency channel, one which Director Bordeaux was bound to answer.

       The tablet lit up, projecting a holographic image in the air: a chess piece, a black queen. “ _All communication lines to Black Queen are currently closed. Do not panic. Please try again later_.”

       The holograph shut off, plunging the room into darkness. Lian gaped at the thing before her. She had never heard such a response before, and she sensed that there was something very, disastrously wrong. _Do not panic_ ,her ass. Something was up.

       Her door clicked, and then opened. Immediately she tensed, snatching one of her firearms from the bedside table, but hazy purplish light filled the room, and Mar’i blinked up at her. With relief, Lian abandoned her weapons, tucking her tablet away.

       Mar’i said, “I can’t sleep.”

       There was an awkward sort of pause. Mar’i was a grown woman, but Lian didn’t really know what else to do. “Well,” she began. “There’s dried milk, we might be able to find some honey too, if you want-”

       Hiding her lips behind a strong hand, Mar’i giggled. “I don’t want warm milk,” she told Lian, slipping into the room and closing the door behind her. “I was wondering if I could sleep in your bed tonight.”

       Lian had been propositioned many different ways by many different people, ranging from Kendall in high school, who hadn’t quite said anything, but had nodded nervously when Lian kissed her one night at a sleepover, to Damian in the bathroom of their apartment, eyes clouded by wine and lips chapped from kissing, asking her straight-out, _Do you want to have sex?_

       But she could not quite place Mar’i on this spectrum. Tamaraneans did not hesitate to express their emotions, and perhaps it was this which surprised Lian so much: maybe Mar’i did crave a physical touch, but more than that, she was lonely and she couldn’t sleep. There was no element of seduction, no flirt in those eyes. Just a pure, open, simple honesty.

       Lian nodded and scooted over in bed, lifting the sheets. Mar’i padded her bare feet across the room and gently got into bed beside Lian. Her skin was warm, and the warmth was so inviting that Lian found herself cuddling up to her body before she could stop herself. In the darkness, Lian hesitated, but Mar’i didn’t seem to mind. She slipped an arm around Lian, holding her close to her chest. Lian thought of what Mar’i had said earlier, in Milagro’s safehouse. _I love you, too._

       “Mar’i,” whispered Lian, the same moment that Mar’i murmured, “Lian?”

       Lian glanced up and around, grateful that Mar’i couldn’t see her face flushing in the dark. “What?” they both asked together, and then Mar’i giggled again, and Lian said, “Um, I mean. You first.”

       Thoughtfully, Mar’i asked: “Who’s Spock?”

       For a moment, Lian blinked. With her head so near Mar’i’s chest, she could hear the other woman’s heartbeat, a steady, reassuring sound. “What?” she asked, since that question had been entirely not what she expected.

       “Spock,” repeated Mar’i. “Earlier you said that Spock dies in that one movie. What movie? Who’s Spock?”

       Slightly in shock, Lian lifted her head up to look at Mar’i’s face. Her green eyes, half-open, glowed through the darkness with a neon luminescence. “Are you kidding?” asked Lian, unsure.

       Innocently, Mar’i answered, “No.”

       “They don’t have Star Trek in your universe?”

       “What’s Star Trek?”

       “Oh my God,” sighed Lian, collapsing back down to snuggle against Mar’i’s side. “Star Trek is like…Star Wars, but better.”

       “Star Wars?”

       “Mar’i, no way-”

       Mar’i laughed. “I’m kidding,” she said. “We have Star Wars.”

       Uttering a half-sincere sigh of relief, Lian let one of her hands wander onto Mar’i’s stomach, soft and cushy. “Spock is like,” Lian began, thinking of how to describe the character, “kind of like a reverse-you. He’s half-human, half-alien, just like you, but his alien side values logic over emotion.” One finger trailed along the supple flesh of Mar’i’s tummy, and Lian lowered her voice. “He’s also the first officer of a starship and one half of the first queer couple on primetime TV.” Mar’i seemed excited at this, so, fairly, Lian added, “OK, not really. But it’s a good show. Maybe I’ll watch it with you sometime.”

       Mar’i let out a small noise, like a purr but higher-pitched. Lian glanced up at her face to see her eyes were closed. Gently, she continued to trace her fingers across Mar’i’s stomach, sensing how much she liked it.

       “It’s strange,” said Lian. “All the ways that our universes are different, but still the same.” She paused, grinned, then asked, “Please tell me you still have Beyoncé over there.”

       “Mmm,” responded Mar’i, without opening her eyes. “You mean President Knowles?”

       This time, Lian was the one who laughed, placing her palm flat against Mar’i’s soft tummy. “If you’re joking, don’t tell me,” she said. “I want to believe that, somewhere out there, we got it right.”

       She laid her chin on Mar’i’s chest, watching the alien’s expression. Mar’i said nothing for a few minutes, and Lian thought that maybe she had fallen asleep.

       Then Mar’i leaned down and kissed Lian on the lips. Waiting for this moment, Lian inwardly rejoiced, and kissed her back.

       Mar’i took her face in both hands, and Lian responded in kind, scrambling forward to straddle the other woman’s waist, never quite breaking their mouths apart. Unable to hold back a little smile against Mar’i’s lips, Lian tugged at the plain shirt she wore, parting their touch just long enough to wiggle out of it – and then, halfway off, she stopped, tentatively almost-lowering her shirt back down. “We can not do this,” she said, as clear and genuinely as she could manage. “I mean, I know that you just had a baby a few months ago, and I don’t know if you’re, like, both physically and emotionally prepared to, you know, engage in…activities…”

       When Mar’i laughed, it was not a mere giggle. Beaming up at Lian, eyes filled with joy, she wrapped her strong hands on either side of Lian’s ribcage and said, very seriously, “Lian Harper, I would love to engage in activities with you.”

       Blushing, Lian laughed too, then managed to tear her shirt all the way off before returning to Mar’i’s sweet kiss, the friction of their bodies matching the heat from Mar’i’s golden skin. Lian was fascinated to find that every time the other woman clenched her fists or let out a moan of pleasure, the glow of her body seemed to pulse brighter for just one moment. Throughout the night, a symphony of starlight danced off Mar’i’s skin, refracted by a sheen of sweat in the heat between them.

       They drifted to sleep in one another’s arms.


	14. SWEET CHILD O' MINE

_She's got eyes of the bluest skies_   
_As if they thought of rain_   
_I'd hate to look into those eyes_   
_And see an ounce of pain_

\----

       In darkness, Lian awoke with a start.

       The silence was heavy and buzzing. Mar’i’s body was pressed along her back, an arm loosely draped across Lian’s body. Her breath was slow and steady. Despite this, Lian knew that something had woken her from sleep, and she lay very still, listening to her instincts, waiting.

       All at once, she realized what had woken her: Mar’i’s body was cool, matching her own temperature. Far colder than she should be.

       Mar’i’s arm moved, slipping away from Lian. Despite the fact that Lian was sure she was still sleeping.

       In one sweeping movement, Lian rolled around, caught the arm of whoever it was who had their hands on Mar’i, and jerked them across the bed, throwing them to the floor. They rolled, and she reached out and planted her heel in their shoulder in a skilled, precise jab that would hopefully immobilize the arm, and then the someone said, “OK, hold on, hold on!” and she blinked through the darkness, recognizing the voice.

       She reached out and flipped on a light on the stand by the bed. For not the first time on this mission, incredulously, she asked, “…Dick?”

       He held up his hands, obviously struggling with the arm she’d pinned, and covered his eyes. “Hi again,” he said. “Can I call a time-out while you get decent?”

       For the first time it registered in her head that she was completely naked, and probably reeked of sex sweat.

       She was very, very, extremely terribly angry and confused at Dick for being there, but he had at one point been like a father to her, so she was grateful that he interrupted whatever the hell he was doing there long enough for her to scramble into some clothes. Halfway into her armored uniform, she got to her feet in between Dick and the bed on which Mar’i laid, still hiking up her leggings. “What are you doing here?” she demanded. “What the hell did you do to Mar’i?”

       “She’s just drugged,” answered Dick, getting to his feet laboriously, massaging his injured shoulder. “ _Damn_ , that hurt.”

       “Why is she drugged? What are you doing here?”

       Dick didn’t answer right away.

       Pulling a weapon so quickly Lian barely had time to move, he dropped to the ground, kicking at her ankles – she dodged, falling backwards onto the bed, then launched back off to land her feet on his chest. She pinned his neck with her knee, knocking the weapon from his hands. “What do you _want?_ Why do you keep following us?”

       Wrenching her off of him, he struggled against her for a moment, then successfully flipped her over so he held her down, pinning her elbows. “I don’t want to hurt you, Lian-”

       “Yeah, all evidence to the contrary-”

       “Look, I’m just trying to do my job, OK? You’re the one who kidnapped an alien from an alternate universe. STAR is a federal agency, they were keeping her under observation.”

       “Well I’m keeping her _safe!_ ”

       “Are you?” he asked, bearing down at her with uncharacteristically hard eyes. “Back at Jai’s house, your dad had fifty guns on you. That doesn’t scream safe to me.”

       “You’re the one who shot at your own _daughter!_ ”

       Dick watched her carefully, but she had caught that flicker of confusion across his face.

       Sensing her chance, she kicked upward with her foot, hard, landing a solid blow to his crotch. When he let go of her elbows in pain, she took hold of his head and smashed it into the floor above her shoulder, then flipped once more so she knelt on his back, holding up his head by his short dark hair.

       Lowering her head so her mouth was next to his ear, she muttered, “They haven’t told you, have they?”

       “Don’t make me hurt you, Lian-”

       “Her name is Mar’i Grayson,” she spat. “She’s a genetic match for both you and Kory. You probably named her after your mother, didn’t you? Mary?” She hesitated; he didn’t speak. “You really didn’t know, did you?”

       He bucked upwards to get her off his back, but Lian did not lose grip of his hair; he split one leg forward and popped upright, all the while with Lian holding tightly onto his back. She pulled her weight upwards and forwards, intending to tip him over – tip over he did, but he caught himself on his hands, taking a few steady steps palm-by-palm, and gravity did its work and Lian fell off him, all the while cursing his circus-gymnastics. Returning to his feet, he stood before the door, hands up and combat-ready.

       “It doesn’t matter whose daughter she is,” said Dick firmly, but there was a frown in his brow that hadn’t been there before. “I’m bringing her in, Lian.”

       “To where?”

       He didn’t answer.

       Something occurred to her, and she held up a hand to indicate a time-out as he had done earlier, only half expecting that to work, and then she went to the bedside table and went through her belongings, glancing at him. Finally she extracted a small card, and she held it out to him, shaking it emphatically in the dim light. “Level nine security clearance with Checkmate, Dick,” she said, and he glanced at her, then at the ID, then back at her. “I’m an international agent with the UN. You sure you want to start this with me? I could get _all_ of Checkmate on your ass with one phone call. Are you sure you’re ready for that?”

       He watched her.

       A little smile bloomed on his face, tugging at his lips. “No you couldn’t,” he said.

       She stared at him for another moment.

       Then she snatched something from the little table, and fired three shots at Dick; he dodged two of them, reflexes as fast as only a Bat’s could be, but the third landed true, and right on the shoulder she’d already injured, too. His smile molted into a grimace, and she held up the weapon.

       “Now, Lian,” he began, clutching at his shoulder, “you used to be like a daughter to me-”

       Before he finished, he threw out his good arm, wrapping a weighted line against the barrel of her weapon and tearing it out of her hands. She swore – fighting Bats was always like this, a terrible stalemate due to their frustrating hyper-competence (except, she guessed, that one time with Damian, but she’d cheated by poisoning him ahead of time, so that didn’t count).

       “Oh, give it up, Dick,” she shot back. “Sleeping with my dad doesn’t make you my mom.”

       “Lian,” he said, sounding hurt. “ _Ayóó'ánííníshní_.”

       Once upon a time when Lian was young, Roy had taught Dick how to say a few things in Navajo for Lian’s benefit – she was removed from her culture on her paternal grandmother’s side, but he didn’t want her to grow apart from it. So he’d done his best to slip the culture in as much as possible, which included saying things like _I love you_ to her in the language. This was what Dick had just said, and it was a cheap shot meant to, presumably, get her to break down and remember how much she loved him as a would-be father, but it was a stupid tactic and she was insulted that he thought she’d fall for it.

       “Dick,” she said, “ _yáadilá t'a'iiyahii_.”

       He did not know this phrase, but it served him right for thinking he could use her own culture against her. Loosely, her insult translated to “butthead.”

       “What are you planning to do with her, anyway?” he asked her. “How far do you think you’re going to get? You’re just going to run forever?”

       “I’ll figure something out,” she shot back.

       “But what about the people who love you?” he asked, beseechingly. “What about your dad? You’re fine with being on opposite sides now? What about the people who need you – what about Damian?”

       “What _about_ Damian?”

       “Aren’t you worried about him?” His gaze was low and dark, focused on her. “Aren’t you wondering where he is?”

       This gave her pause. “What are you talking about? Damian’s in Gotham.”

       There was genuine surprise on Dick’s face at this, something he could probably fake, but she was not absolutely certain. “No, he’s not,” he said. “I was just in Gotham. Last we heard he was making his way through South Dakota, Bruce has a few safehouses up there.”

       Lian narrowed her eyes. She did not believe him; Iris had been so sure when she told Lian where Damian was, had been so adamant that she not return to Gotham, unable to control herself if she did. “You’re lying,” she said.

       “I’m not,” he answered, honestly.

       “Then you’re wrong. He came back and didn’t tell you.”

       “Where would he go?” asked Dick. “Everywhere Bruce doesn’t monitor, Oracle does. Everywhere Oracle doesn’t – not that such a place exists – Ember does. Damian’s not in Gotham, Lian. Did he tell you he was? Have you talked to him?”

       The sudden shift in Dick’s demeanor was so complete that she was very tempted to believe him. “I… no, I haven’t.”

       “Neither have we,” said Dick grimly. “He wasn’t chatty to begin with, but he’s been practically untraceable for the past week or so. Bruce is a little messed up about it – he doesn’t think Damian calls home enough.”

       “OK, stop,” said Lian. “I didn’t ask for your life story, definitely not while you’re here trying to kidnap my-”

       She broke off, and Dick raised an eyebrow. “Your what?”

       Lian shook her head, glaring at him.

       Straightening up, out of his defensive stance, Dick began, “And here I was, thinking that you and Damian-”

       With a long-suffering roll of her eyes, she said, “How many times do I have to tell you, Damian and I aren’t going to happen, I’m so gay, remember?”

       “Hey, no judgement here,” shrugged Dick. “Damian’s bisexual, you could be too-”

       “Oh, for _Christ’s_ sake-”

       This time when she shot it landed true, Dick’s own distraction technique backfiring on himself. The dart lodged itself in his neck, and he managed a single clear look at her before he collapsed, slowly, as if falling in slow motion.

       Cautiously, she approached his unconscious body, then leaned over and checked his pulse to make sure he was actually out cold. As she did so, she murmured, “Damian’s _pan_ , you ass.”

       Opening the door to her room, she dragged Dick’s limp body out. “Woah, holy shit,” said Jordan, poking xyr head out the other door. “Who’s that?”

       Disbelievingly, Lian looked around to where Jordan stood, Niloufar slightly behind xyr. “Have you been awake this whole time?” she asked.

       Jordan shrugged.

       “Um,” said Lian, “you could’ve helped?”

       Again, Jordan shrugged, floating out of the doorway. “Who’s that?” xe asked again.

       “You don’t recognize him?” asked Lian. “Must be because he’s missing the fingerstripes.”

       “This is his safehouse, right?” asked Niloufar, still hovering in the doorway. “Why’d you knock him out?”

       Tugging him all the way out to the center of the living space, before the television, Lian told them, “He’s not here to help. He’s been tracking us this whole time. When he first showed up, he had to have been the one to plant the explosive at that safehouse. Nobody else knew about it. And in Keystone, Niloufar, he was the one on the roof – you stopped him just long enough for me to find him. For some reason, he’s been following us, and he wants Mar’i, and I have no idea why.”

       Alarmed, Niloufar asked, “Is Mar’i OK?”

       “She’s unconscious,” answered Lian. “He drugged her.” Gesturing towards her own room, she added, “You should go check on her.”

       Jordan glanced to Lian’s room, into which Niloufar scurried. “Ay,” xe said, smirking. “Congrats, kiddo.”

       Preoccupied with searching Dick’s unconscious body, Lian ignored this from Jordan. Amongst his various tools and gadgets, the only identifying object she could find was a small pillbox in his gloves stamped with the same symbol from the missile launcher. In it were two small cyanide caps. This was how she knew for sure he wasn’t working for the Bat: Batman did not allow any of his soldiers to carry suicide pills of any kind. Damian had once recalled to her the story of how he’d been grounded for six months after his father found tablets on his uniform. He had been twelve years old, and it was within the first few weeks of his father’s return to Gotham. At first Damian hadn’t understood his father’s rage – in the League of Assassins it was considered irresponsible not to be prepared for all possible situations. But Bruce had eventually sat him down and explained that in their world, in Gotham, he would never be in a situation where rational suicide would be necessary. “ _You win_ ,” had been Bruce’s words, and as Damian repeated them to Lian, his eyes had been far away, almost reverent. “ _There is no other option. You win_.”

       Lian’s reply to that had been, “No wonder you’re so fucked up,” and Damian had laughed a little bit, but not as much as she did. Thinking of him unsettled her stomach as she recalled Dick’s words. He had claimed Damian wasn’t in Gotham, but Irey said he was. At the moment, Lian held neither of them in very high regard concerning their trustworthiness, but it worried her that she now knew for sure that one of them was lying.

       “Help me with this,” said Lian, moving to the television. She and Jordan pushed it out of the way of the tunnel, and Lian peered into the darkness. “You know where this goes?” she asked.

       Jordan shook xyr head. “Didn’t we already agree not to risk it?”

       “But we’re betting on Gotham, right?”

       “Sure. It’d make sense.”

       Lian looked back into the tunnel. “OK,” she said. “Well. Not like we have any other options, to be honest.”

       “Mar’i’s fine,” called Niloufar, from the other room. “She should be up in an hour or so. Maybe sooner. I’m not really sure how Tamaranean biology processes chemical tranquilizers, so we’ll see.”

       In the quiet bunker, Lian stood above Dick’s body, hands on her hips. “All right,” she said. “As for our next move, I vote for taking a trip into Gotham.”

       “Sounds good,” agreed Jordan. “I do have a job superheroing there, you know. Ellen, Nell, and Colin can only do so much.”

       Thoughtfully, Niloufar asked, “What about Lucas?”

       “Lucas is in Japan,” answered Jordan, with a shrug. “Turns out dragging his parents’ company out of the dumps is tougher than he thought it’d be.”

       “You two have done so much for us,” said Lian. “Thank you. But you’re right. When we get to Gotham, it’s probably best if we part ways.”

       “No,” said Niloufar, folding her arms. “Not until Mar’i is out of danger.”

       Recalling Dick’s words, Lian said, “This has to end sometime. She deserves better than a life on the run.”

       With a spark of anger, Niloufar shot back, “But she also doesn’t deserve to be captured and locked up by Checkmate!”

       “I’m not going to let that happen,” said Lian smoothly. “I’ll figure it out. Even if it means getting Mar’i off of Earth, permanently, we’ll find a place for her. There’s a Tamaranean colony in the Vega system-”

       “Yeah, but,” interrupted Jordan pointedly. “That’s way far away from you. And I get the feeling she wouldn’t want that.”

       Lian didn’t answer this, her answer hanging back in her mouth, turning the taste on her tongue sour. Jordan was right: Mar’i wouldn’t want to leave Lian any more than Lian wanted to leave Mar’i. There was something about her, about her openness and her love and her ferocity that touched Lian, excited her like no one else ever had. She felt like she belonged with Mar’i, and then immediately she chastised herself for thinking that – she barely knew the woman, slow down, be careful…

       The lights in the bunker flickered. Jordan glanced around.

       Once again, the lights flickered, this time paired with a grinding sound somewhere above them, and a gentle tremor.

       “Are we being attacked again?” asked Niloufar, fear in her eyes. Pointing at Dick, she said, “I thought he was the one attacking us!”

       “Checkmate,” murmured Lian. “Come to say hi.” Damn. She shouldn’t have called Director Bordeaux, that must’ve clued them in on her location. “We’re getting out of here, now. Jordan, can you go ahead in the tunnel and make sure it doesn’t cave in? Niloufar, help me with Mar’i.”

       “Make sure it doesn’t cave in?” repeated Jordan, even as there was another crushing sound, and the bunker trembled more violently. “I’m not a miracle worker, you know-”

       “If Wonder Woman could do it,” said Niloufar, following Lian, “you can. I believe in you.”

       Jordan probably didn’t even really need this encouragement, but it certainly made xyr happy, and xe grinned dopily after Niloufar, then headed into the tunnel. “Awright!” xe shouted, xyr voice thundering throughout the darkness. “Let’s go!”

       Quickly, they dressed Mar’i, and then heaved her across both of their shoulders, doing their best to carry her weight. “Come on, Mar’i,” muttered Lian. “Now would be a great time for that alien metabolism to kick in.”

       Once more, the bunker shook as if in an earthquake; Niloufar fell to the floor, and Mar’i toppled after her. Lian swore, then called, “Niloufar, you all right?” After Niloufar ensured her that she was, Lian once more straddled Mar’i’s waist. “You’re gonna thank me for this,” she muttered, and she hit Mar’i, hard, across the face.

       Nothing.

       “Oh, _come_ on,” she began, and she punched Mar’i again, and this time there was a flicker of movement, and suddenly Mar’i’s eyes fluttered open.

       Her expression broke into a wide smile when she saw Lian on top of her. “That tickled,” she giggled, and Lian sighed in relief.

       “We have to get out of here, now,” Lian told her, slipping off her. “Can you walk?”

       “Mmm, my legs are a little unsteady,” Mar’i said, putting a hand to her head. Lian reached out to help her up, but Mar’i grinned at her and said, “But I can still fly!”

       She leapt into the sky, and Lian told her, “Follow Jordan, xe’s in the tunnel already. We’re heading to Gotham.” With a nod, Mar’i headed out of the room, zooming past them to head into the tunnel. Niloufar and Lian began to follow her, and then Lian stopped.

       At the mouth of the tunnel, Niloufar said, “Lian, come on! We have to go!”

       The bunker shook, and the lights flickered violently. “Wait,” she said. “Where’s Dick?”

       Niloufar blinked at her. Then she followed Lian’s gaze, looking around the room, searching where the man had just been lying. “He must’ve run,” said Niloufar. “Maybe he’s joining whoever’s trying to bomb us out.”

       Lian’s eyes slid to the tunnel behind Niloufar. It was empty.

       “They’re Checkmate,” said Lian. “That doesn’t…”

       She trailed off. Dick couldn’t be working for Checkmate. Surely she’d have heard of him by now. And what of the mysterious symbol?

       Shaking her head, Lian murmured, “It doesn’t matter, we don’t have a choice. We need to get out of here now.” She took Niloufar’s hand and sprinted into the tunnel, following Jordan and Mar’i, whose glow lit up the darkness in front of them. When they caught up, Lian instructed Mar’i to collapse the tunnel behind them with her starbolts. As soon as she did so, they stopped running. It was dark in the tunnel, and Jordan moved first, xyr gray eyes of Athena checking for danger. Mar’i stayed in the middle, lighting the way for Lian and Niloufar.

       “Can’t you shine any brighter?” asked Lian. “I can barely see a thing.”

       “I can’t,” responded Mar’i. “I’ve barely had any access to direct sunlight. And I used a lot of my energy last night.”

       Before them, Jordan snickered. Lian glanced away, blushing slightly.

       They wandered for some time, and Lian started to get antsy. If the tunnel didn’t open up soon, she intended on instructing Jordan to burrow upwards – but then, the bunker itself had been under the bay in Blüdhaven, and who knew how far they’d have to go before they weren’t underwater anymore?

       “Lian,” said Niloufar, glancing at her. “You’re an agent of Checkmate, right?”

       She supposed at this point there was no use denying it. “Yeah, I am,” she relented. “Black Queen’s Bishop, actually.”

       “In the Royal Family?” asked Niloufar. “And they’re still hunting you?”

       “Hunting Mar’i,” Lian corrected. “And yes, they are. I don’t know why. If I did, I’d stop them.”

       “This is exactly why Batman doesn’t trust those organizations,” sighed Niloufar. “They’re all so wrapped up in secrets. They turned on you without any warning at all.”

       “That’s not fair,” retorted Lian. “As if Batman doesn’t keep his secrets.”

       Niloufar shrugged. “He does,” she conceded. “But I’ve never had to fight a Bat, and I know I never will. You don’t have that kind of certainty, do you?”

       Lian wanted to point out the whole encounter with Dick back there, but Mar'i spoke over her. “Don’t argue,” she sighed, floating before them like a violet lantern. “I’m sure there’s a good reason for everything that’s happening. We’ll figure it out.”

       “You’re so optimistic, Mar’i,” said Niloufar. As bitter as she was, she almost sounded admiring. But it was with a touch of venom that she asked, “How did Damian convince you to fall in love with him?”

       Mar’i stopped, and she turned around to glance at Mar’i with green fire behind her eyes. “Damian didn’t,” she said, voice hard. “His name was Ibn.”

       Niloufar didn’t say anything. Mar’i turned once more and rushed ahead slightly, dimming the light they had even further. Glancing at the other woman, Lian would’ve liked to say something biting like, “Nice going,” to Niloufar, but she stopped herself. No point, really.

       After a while, Jordan stopped moving. When they caught up with xyr, xe turned around to face them grimly. “Bad news,” xe said, then xe reached behind xyr and patted a wall of earth. “This is as far as it goes.”

       “What!” said Lian, refusing to believe this. She stalked past Mar’i to place her own hands against the solid dirt before them. “I _know_ people were evacuated this way-”

       “They probably closed it up,” said Niloufar. “If it does go to the Batcave, did you really think Batman would let it stay open?” This was a very good point, and Lian was a little put out that she hadn’t thought of it first.

       “OK,” she said, pausing, looking around at the others, taking in the situation. “That’s fine. We have two superhumans with us, we can deal with it.”

       Jordan protested, “Three superhumans,” with an indignant nod at Niloufar, who smiled at xyr affectionately.

       “Jordan, Mar’i,” continued Lian. “Can you push the tunnel forward?”

       “Yes,” answered Mar’i. “But how do we know when to come up?”

       This was the question that Lian was struggling with. “I’ll figure it out,” she said, but she was bluffing and she suspected that they could all see through her.

       “Be careful,” added Niloufar. “If you don’t know what you’re doing, you could easily cause a cave-in.”

       “Thanks,” said Lian sharply, although she knew her response wasn’t fair. A pulsing headache was beginning to pound behind her eyes – she knew that they had to keep moving, because if Checkmate didn’t find them in the bunker then they’d realize the tunnel was the only way out. And Lian had no desire to square off with Rose Wilson again.

       Then, suddenly, just as Jordan grimaced and prepared to dig at the wall before them, the dirt around them began to shiver, clumps falling down on them. “An earthquake?” asked Niloufar, frightened, and then Lian narrowed her eyes and glanced around them.

       “No,” she murmured. “It seems like it’s coming from-”

       A spray of dirty and a loud roar – Lian, blinded by the sudden light, fell into a defensive crouch. Niloufar let out a shout and wildly Lian began, “Niloufar, are you OK-?” but then her eyes adjusted to the bright lights carried by the those opposite them, from the dirt wall Jordan and Mar’i had been facing, knocked down from the other side.

       Lian realized Niloufar’s shout had been one of joy as she ran forward and threw her arms over whoever it was stood at the front of the group. Straightening up, Lian abandoned her combat-ready stance, blinking at the three people before them.

       Colin Wilkes, transformed into the massive beast called Abuse, grinned down at her, showing his huge, crooked teeth in a grimace that was certainly meant to be friendly, but ended up menacing. From the dirt on his massive hands and arms, he had apparently been the one digging. Beside him, bedecked in eggplant purple, Nell Little held a lantern which flooded the tunnel with lights so well it appeared to be daytime.

       And finally, Ellen Nayar herself – Ember – stood before them, no mask obscuring her dark skin and the scar across her face. She seemed pleased, although she did not quite smile. It was an enigmatic look that Lian had only seen a few times, yet which seemed so oddly familiar, a look with which Damian had fallen deeply in love.

       The crimson red in her uniform shining with the bright light, Ember swept her gaze across the four of them and said: “I heard you could use some backup.”

 


	15. BAT OUT OF HELL

_Oh baby you're the only thing in this whole world,_   
_that's pure and good and right._   
_And wherever you are and wherever you go,_   
_there's always gonna be some light._   
_But I gotta get out,_   
_I gotta break it out now,_   
_Before the final crack of dawn_

\----

       Lian and Ellen followed up in the rear as the seven of them headed back through the tunnel. Before them, Nell talked happily with Jordan and Niloufar, whom she hadn’t seen for some time due to her residency in Metropolis. Mar’i hovered with them, beaming at Nell, asking with fascination about her costume – apparently there had never been a Spoiler on her earth. Behind Nell came Colin, limping slightly as he shook the Venom out of his limbs, his body slowly returning to normal. Lian was happy to see that he was all right – at the end of her last mission with the team, Colin had been ill with the decaying Venom in his system, and ended up clinically dead for over a minute. It had taken several bolts of electricity courtesy of his boyfriend Lucas to get his heart restarted. Despite that, he looked healthy and decidedly cheery, occasionally interrupting Niloufar and Nell’s conversation, or shooting a sharp smirking comment Jordan’s way.

       Mar’i’s glow was not strong, but it was still visible even in the light from Nell’s lantern. While they walked, Ellen told Lian, “Batman gives us whatever he doesn’t use, including safehouses. We’ve been monitoring this one for over a year.”

       Lian replied, “Who’s we?” Nodding at Niloufar and Jordan, she said, “They didn’t know about it.”

       With a small smile, Ellen relented. “I was monitoring it,” she admitted. “Batman trusts me more than he does the rest of the team, I think. I try to live up to it.”

       “To Batman’s standards?” echoed Lian skeptically. “Impossible.”

       Ellen shrugged. “When my monitors picked up the commotion, I thought you might need a back door. Looks like I wasn’t wrong.”

       “You weren’t.” While she kept a careful eye on Mar’i, Lian failed to notice a rock in her path; she tripped, and Ellen caught her arm, keeping her upright. “Your monitors happen to catch a look at whoever it was carpet-bombing us?”

       “Unmarked black aircraft,” answered Ellen. “Didn’t exactly look amateur, if you know what I mean.”

       Unfortunately, Lian did. It had to be Checkmate. Thinking of Checkmate made her think of Dick and, without wanting to give too much away, she glanced at Ellen and asked, “Isn’t this Nightwing’s place, not Batman’s?”

       “There’s not much of a Nightwing at all anymore,” said Ellen. “Certainly not in Gotham.”

       “Where is he?”

       “Who knows? It’s not my job to keep tabs on all of them.”

       Except Lian knew that Ellen knew something about Dick Grayson, because Jordan said xe’d seen that strange symbol before. Although this bothered Lian, she also knew that Ellen hadn’t gotten this far by disclosing her secrets early, so she didn’t push it.

       Her eyes flickering to Mar’i’s bright form, Ellen asked, “Who’s the princess?”

       Lian began, “She’s not-” but then cut off abruptly, watching Mar’i laugh at something Nell said. Ellen glanced at her with that small not-grin on her face, and it occurred to Lian that Mar’i actually was a princess, Tamaranean royalty on her mother’s side. “Her name is Mar’i,” said Lian lowly. “Right now I’m doing my best to keep her safe.”

       “Safe from whom?”

       “Yeah,” sighed Lian, “well, if I knew that I wouldn’t have asked to begin with. You tell me who it was in those helicopters, and I’ll tell you who’s after Mar’i.” She was only half-lying; she knew it was Checkmate, but there had to be something very wrong for the organization to be working as it was, against their Black Queen’s Bishop.

       Ellen thumbed a commlink at her ear, her eyes refocusing as someone whispered something into her ear. Without missing a beat, she continued, “We’ll get you out of here, but I don’t think you should stay in Gotham long. We don’t take well to aliens.”

       “Unless said alien is Batman’s best friend, I suppose?”

       Calmly, Ellen said, “I’m not talking about Batman, I’m talking about me. We have enough superpowers as is, any more and we start attracting the big bads. I’d rather avoid the collateral damage.”

       This did not exactly frustrate Lian: she knew that Ellen had a point, and that it was risky bringing them into Gotham what with their pursuers being as adamant as they were. In a way, Lian found herself impressed. Ellen spoke with the quiet authority of someone with a city to protect, the weight of responsibility wringing about her neck. Meanwhile Lian and Damian had been playing superhero in California, following the action wherever it may be and taking assignments when they felt like it. Ellen, on the other hand, sounded like she knew exactly what she was supposed to be doing. Every word and movement seemed calculated and deliberate, like it was all part of her plan.

       Impressed, Lian asked, “Who died and made you boss?”

       “Nobody,” answered Ellen. She stopped short for just one second, and the light from the lantern before them glinted in her eye, like a razor’s edge. “They all left. Red Robin’s been out of the field for years, Nightwing is basically done, Robin disappeared,” she didn’t pause at this, although Lian did: Damian left Gotham four years ago for a number of reasons, one of which being that Ellen had broken off their engagement, “who knows where Huntress is, and even though Black Bat’s been back for a month now she’s never out. The Bats no longer really roost in Gotham, Arsenal.” She added, “Except for Batgirl, maybe, but she’s barely in uniform anymore.”

       Lian eyed Ellen. She was not sure she wanted to ask this, but she did want to know. “Damian’s not here?”

       Ellen shook her head. “Last time I saw him was on the news,” she said. “Apparently he won the San Francisco AIDS Marathon?”

       He had indeed; he ran it in honor of Mia and Adam, both HIV-positive. Lian was completely sure he cheated and bribed the cameras to make it look like he’d run a mile or so that he hadn’t, but she didn’t mind. It was for charity. “Yeah, he did.”

       Ellen might have smiled. “Good for him.”

       “What about Daddy Bats?”

       “Bruce,” said Ellen, and it surprised Lian very much that she used his first name, “is getting old. He can’t do this forever. He’s been out of commission for a few months because of his hip replacement.”

       This shocked Lian; she wished she had some water, so she could spit take. “A hip replacement?” she repeated. “You have to be joking.”

       Grimly, Ellen said, “He hasn’t been kind to his body, and now it’s being unkind to him.”

       Damian had said nothing of this. Had he even known at all? It seemed very much like Bruce Wayne not to tell anybody about an operation like that, to keep up his façade as the unbreakable, unbeatable Batman.

       “So where does this tunnel go, anyway?” she asked. “We making a surprise visit to Wayne Manor?”

       “Almost,” answered Ellen, with another ghost of a grin. “It originally led to the Cave, where Bruce set up a transporter for evacuees. He wasn’t about to let us reopen that particular chink in the armor, but a mutual friend of ours helped set up a secret passageway underneath the Manor years ago.”

       Raising an eyebrow, Lian asked, “So what are you saying?”

       “I’m saying,” Ellen began, as the dirt tunnel slowly began to give way to a concrete corridor, “no, we’re not visiting the Manor. Just the grounds.”

       A set of stone steps appeared before them, and Jordan went first, pressing xyr hands against slab of concrete on top. With a loud grinding scrape that sent shivers across Lian’s skin, Jordan tossed it aside, and natural moonlight filtered into the small tunnel. One by one they climbed out, Nell offering her hand to help them step out. Lian emerged last, looking up in the darkness at the pristine night sky above them. Stars twinkled amidst a sea of inky black. She realized she had lost nearly all sense of time; to her, in the empty tunnel, it could have been the middle of the day.

       Once they were all out, Jordan slid the huge stone statue back into place. It was a stone angel, her hands pressed together in prayer. Lian blinked, then glanced around, unsure for a moment where she was – and then she glanced at the stones erected beyond the angel, and with a reeling sense of horror, she realized they had been walking just beneath the Wayne cemetery.

       Beneath the stone angel was an inscription: _Here Lies Jason Todd_.

       Lian felt a lurch in her stomach. She thought of Jason emptying the grave, excavating beneath it, turning any evidence of his death into something good, something that could be used to help someone in the future – to help her.

       She glanced away, blinking away the sudden sting in her eyes, angry at herself for the unanticipated rise of emotion. Ellen dug for something in her belt, then handed a commlink to Lian. “We’ll get you transport, and then you can get out of here,” she said.

       Slipping it into her ear, Lian reached out to take Ellen’s hand. “Thank you,” she said. “You really saved our asses back there.”

       “Least I could do,” answered Ellen smoothly. “I owe you one.”

       “Oh, not really,” laughed Lian, waving her hand. “Last time I was here, all I did was make it worse for you. I know that.” This was not entirely true, but Lian certainly had blown up Kane Bridge, which Ellen probably had not been happy about. So she thought it safer to go the humbler route.

       But Ellen shook her head. Her not-smile was faint and enticing, eyes flashing as if there was something she knew about which Lian found herself suddenly, desperately curious. The scar on her face only complicated the expression, made it seem like she was looking at Lian from behind scratched glass. With a rush of self-conscious exhilaration under the gaze of those earthy brown eyes, Lian suddenly, completely understood how Damian had fallen in love with her.  “I’m not talking about what happened with Hush,” said Ellen. “You got me a job, Agent Harper.”

       It was a split second before Lian realized what she meant: after the fiasco in Gotham, during which Lian had been outed in more ways than one, she had been promoted to the Black Queen’s Royal Family within Checkmate. And she had quickly recommended Ellen Nayar to Amanda Waller, the White Queen. Knowing this – that Lian had an ally in Checkmate – she leaned in earnestly, about to ask what in the _hell_ was happening to the organization, and then-

       Lian stopped and stared at Ellen’s face, her gaze refocusing the way it did when people stared at the scar across Ellen’s face. Immediately Ellen turned suspicious, but then the red dot of a scope’s rangefinder slipped from her face to Lian’s, and Lian shouted, “Get _down_ -”

       It was enough warning to dodge the bullet, which knocked a finger off the praying hands of the stone angel and bounced violently onto the grassy ground. Judging from its rebound, it must have been a rubber bullet, which was probably a good sign – they weren’t shooting to kill. At that same moment, Niloufar collapsed, dart sticking through the cloth of her hijab to lodge itself in her neck – Jordan roared with anger, but then xe screamed, clutching xyr ears in agony. After another second, xe launched off the ground, shooting straight into the sky until xe disappeared.

       Only then did the choppers appear, sending billowing wind across the group of them as they lowered towards the ground, sleek and black and dangerous. Hanging halfway out one of them was Rose Wilson, her silver hair shining in the moonlight, her eyepatch a black hole in the center of her face.

       “Agent Harper,” she called. “Before we begin, I just want you to know that we were aiming for the commlink.”

       Nell – Spoiler – shouted, “What did you do to Jabberwock?”

       Black Queen’s Knight held up a small device. “High-frequency whistle,” she answered. “Only affects those with superhearing. Unbearably painful for them, I’ve heard. Doctor Ghorbani’s just got some tranqs in her, she’ll be fine - couldn’t risk her mind-bending us into oblivion.”

       “What do you want?” shouted Lian, but then the choppers landed and slowed their blades. Rose climbed off her perch, the weapon slung across her shoulder clicking as she moved. Pawns flooded out from the other helicopters, surrounding them completely. Gritting her teeth, Lian glanced around at them. Barrels were raised to point at them, indicating that this was not a standoff that could be resolved with diplomacy. Rose Wilson had come with the intent to shoot.

       Turning her head to speak to her forces, Rose said, “Secure the Tamaranean.”

       “Rose,” shouted Lian. “What are you doing here? Do you even know who she is?”

       “Do you know who _I_ am, Harper?” barked Rose. “As Black Queen’s Knight, I am Checkmate’s special ops field agent, which means that I am prepared to do whatever it takes to finish my mission and bring her in-”

       “Why?” demanded Lian. “Did you even ask?”

       “It’s not my place to challenge orders-”

       “I’m the Bishop!” cried Lian. “I’m supposed to be in charge of intelligence, Rose, and I have no idea what’s going on! There’s a problem here, just stop what you’re doing and we can fix it.”

       “My orders,” said Rose, loudly, holding up her weapon, “are to bring the alien in, no questions asked.”

       “Fine,” Lian shot back. “I’ll ask the questions so you don’t have to.”

       “Agent Harper-”

       Another shot, but Lian heard the direction it came from and dodged; it scraped her back, but left her otherwise unharmed. “Mar’i,” she said, turning around to see Mar’i hovering by the stone angel. “Can’t you take them out like you did before?”

       Mar’i shook her head, usually glowing skin pale in the moonlight. “I haven’t had direct sunlight in days,” she said. For the first time, she sounded scared. “I’m all out of energy.”

       Gritting her teeth, Lian stared hard at Rose, who did not bend under her gaze.

       Then she lowered into a defensive stance. She had had to use most of her weapons against Dick, and the rest she had emptied from her utility belt in order to carry what she had taken from Jai’s basement – a failsafe, as it were, but not one that would help them now.

       Glancing around at the others, Lian said, “Well, then. Looks like we’ve come to an impasse.”

       Rose grinned at her. “Not even in your dreams, kid,” she said, and then she gestured with her right hand, and once again Lian shouted, “Everybody _DOWN_!” as weapons clicked and bullets fired, and Lian fell to the ground with one arm slung over Ellen, eyes squeezed shut, hoping to God that Mar’i’s Tamaranean invulnerability would protect her.

       But the bullets did not hit them. Instead, there was a familiar rush. As soon as she felt it, Lian opened her eyes, her heart pumping.

       A yellow-red blur behind which thundering trails of lightning boomed sped around the agents surrounding them, plucking bullets from the air mid-arc and collecting them in a neat pile before Rose Wilson’s feet.

       Iris West stopped before the bullets, her eyes invisible behind the crackling energy which surrounded her body like a haze, like a charged, electric miasma. Rose gaped at her, and then raised her weapon, but before she could blink Iris had taken it, ripped right through it with her power. Lian had seen Iris at her worst and most powerful before, but this was far beyond that – she could barely contain the energy in her body, bursting beneath her skin, at every moment a second away from implosion.

       Fiercely, Iris whipped around and stalked towards Lian, her dark skin lit up with the power of the Multiverse.

       “L _iiiii_ an,” she hissed, her voice ringing like a bell, “ _IIIIII_ to _lld_ you _uu_ _not_ togo _toooo_ Go _thhham_ -”

       With a devastating _BOOM_ of the sound barrier breaking a dozen times, all of Checkmate’s agents were suddenly on the ground, stripped of both their weapons and their clothes. Still, it seemed that Iris had hardly moved.

       Slowly, fighting against the whirling winds that whipped, caught up in Irey’s energy, Lian reached her arms out to approach the other woman. “Iris!” she shouted. “Iris, get a hold of yourself! He’s not here! _Damian’s not here!_ ”

       The swirling chaos did not quite stop, so strong now that it toppled over one of Checkmate’s helicopters. Iris did not move, but Lian suspected that this was an illusion: she was, in fact, everywhere at once.

       “ _IT’S SOMETHING ELSE!_ ” shouted Lian, fighting through the maelstrom. “ _IT’S NOT DAMIAN! HE’S NOT HERE!_ ”

       Her eyes burned red. “Ye _esssss_ he _is_ ,” responded Iris, her voice vibrating through the wind.

       Past the final crackling energy, hot and burning, Lian reached out and grabbed hold of Iris’s hands. At first her touch slipped right through her, Iris’s form not corporeal, and then she somehow became more solid, more present – the electricity, although still arcing in a halo above them, seemed to steady.

       “He’s not,” said Lian plainly, almost sadly. “I don’t see how he can be the source of the fracture when he’s not even here. It’s something else.”

       “ _H_ is – _ssss_ on.”

       “I know,” said Lian. “Maybe you were wrong, Iris.”

       “What is she saying?” asked Ellen, from behind Lian. Cautious and slow, she got to her feet. “Damian’s son?”

       Lian held onto Iris tightly, then took a deep breath and turned around to face the others. “Four years ago, the Multiverse broke. In our universe, Damian was supposed to have a son. Obviously, he didn’t. The ripple effects threw the Speed Force into our universe – into Iris – which destabilized the rest of the Multiverse. Iris has been trying to fix it since. That’s how you got pulled into our universe, Mar’i,” she said, nodding at the alien. “A few months earlier, and we would’ve gotten Damian’s son as well. Iris can’t be around Damian without being overwhelmed by the reverberations, but the reverberations are coming from here, from Gotham City.”

       “And Damian’s not here,” said Ellen.

       “Right,” said Lian. “So – maybe – I don’t know. Maybe it’s something else.”

       “N _ottt_ some _thhhing_ ,” uttered Iris, squeezing Lian’s hands tightly. “S _ssssss_ ome _onnne_.”

       Lian stopped.

       She turned around to stare at Iris. “The mother,” she said.

       With a vibration so violent Lian nearly lost hold of her hands, Iris nodded, every atom trembling.

       “What mother?” demanded Ellen; if she sounded more upset than concerned, it was not without reason. Four years ago, she had been with Damian and, biologically speaking, could not have given birth. “What’s going on?”

       “Ember, I’ll explain everything later,” said Lian, then she held Iris’s hands, keeping her close. “You should get out of here, Iris,” she said. “Before you fall apart.”

       Wildly, Iris shook her head, the lightning in her eyes popping with energy. “Powe _rrrr_ ,” she breathed. “ _No_ limits. I have… _everrythhhing_. L _iannn_. I _can_ open – _Betweenspace_.”

       Betweenspace: that strange, mysterious somewhere from which someone plucked at the strings of their universe, and in which Iris could end all of this in one blow.

       “I _cansolve_ thi _sss_ …s _hhhh_ e’s here… _in_ Goth _ammm_ …” An explosion of light clapped above Iris, sparks falling around them, bright as the sun. Iris looked away from Lian, her red-yellow gaze snaking past her, shooting up behind her, beyond the confines of the cemetery. “ _Betweenspace_ ,” repeated Iris. “I can _open_ – _Betweenspace_ – _intheManor_ – _IneedyouLianIneedyouand_ -”

       “Mar’i,” said Lian, turning around, reaching out towards the alien. The electricity sparking around Iris lit up the night, casting flickering yellow shadows on them all. “Let’s stop this, right now. Let’s make sure no one else loses their universe the way you did.”

       The Tamaranean watched her. The light pulsing through her skin and down her hair was not visible in Iris’s chattering lightning: she looked dull and leaden, as if she were made of the same stone as the angel. Unwilling or unable to let go of Iris, to let her slip away again, Lian held her hand out to Mar’i, gesturing for her to join them.

       Mar’i said nothing. Tears dripped from her eyes, onto the grass of the cemetery. Her lips moved, barely audible against the crackling energy.

       Whispery and weak, Mar’i asked, “She brought me here?”

       Lian’s heart sank.

       “We can stop this,” said Lian, reaching out. “Nobody ever has to die like Ibn and your son did ever again.”

       “You killed them?”

       Under Lian’s touch, Iris seemed to solidify even further. Thunder boomed, and then her voice, with the static electricity of lightning. “I meant to take your son,” she said, like a breaking storm across the ocean. “I didn’t mean for him to die.”

       At this, Mar’i wept. She held her hands desperately to her face, falling to the ground, curling inwards on herself, as if she could get smaller and smaller until she, too, existed no longer. Cautiously, Ellen watched them, unsure what to do.

       Lian’s heart hurt for Mar’i. Many times in the past few days Lian had wondered how it was that Mar’i was not grieving; gor the first time it occurred to her that perhaps she had been this whole time, and it was only that Lian had not noticed.

       Mar’i or the Multiverse. Lian squeezed tightly onto Iris’s hands, keeping her there, keeping her connected to their plane of reality, their vibrational frequency.

       And then Lian let go of Iris, and she fell to her knees by Mar’i’s side, wrapping her arms around her. “I’m sorry,” she whispered; behind them, a howling scream pierced through the night, Iris moving too quickly for their universe. Lian didn’t even know if Mar’i could hear her. “I’m sorry,” she said again, holding the other woman. “I’m sorry.”

       Like a wounded animal, the howl coalesced into a shriek, and then suddenly Iris appeared, face-to-face with Mar’i, and she spat, “Nn _nnnnn_ nnn _nnno_ -”

       She grabbed them harshly, and there was a lurch in Lian’s stomach, the familiar tug of being pulled at thousands of miles a second, faster than sound, faster than light itself.

       On the front steps of Wayne Manor, the bright light circling and spitting around Iris cast shadows across the old house, illuminating hidden gargoyles amidst the stone.

       Voice like the resonating ring of a bell, Iris spoke. “ _We_ – _end_ – _this_ – _now_.”

       She reached out her hand. When she touched the doorknob, electricity sparked, and it seemed to melt beneath her touch. Wind whipped again, a tornado of energy as, Lian knew, Iris began to lose control. The door swung open, and Iris grabbed both Lian and Mar’i, who was still in tears, and she dragged them across the threshold, into the front hall of Wayne Manor.

       Behind them, the door swung shut. The wind ceased. The crackling of lightning and booming of thunder disappeared, as did the light shining in Iris’s eyes and the glow pulsing through her veins, power she still kept just beneath the surface. She let go of Lian and Mar’i, raising her own hands to eye level, staring at herself in wonder.

       She did not flicker. Everything was absolutely still.

       For a moment, everything was so silent that Lian thought something had deafened them. But then she heard Mar’i beside her, still weeping for her child. Her muffled, sniffling cries echoed in the grand, empty Manor. As Lian glanced around, she realized that something was not right. In the Manor she knew, there was a portrait of Bruce Wayne and his boys hanging in the hall, directly across from the old painting of Thomas and Martha Wayne. Here, there was only the lone painting of Damian’s grandparents. The opposite wall held nothing, an empty, blank lack.

       Slowly – slower, Lian thought, than she had seen her move in years – Iris turned around to face Mar’i and Lian.

       She smiled at them.

       “Welcome,” she said, “to Betweenspace.”

 


	16. WHAT A WONDERFUL WORLD

_Well, I see skies of blue and clouds of white  
_ _And the brightness of day  
_ _I like the dark  
_ _And I think to myself,  
_ _What a wonderful world_

\----

       Slowly, Lian rose to her feet. Keeping her tips of her fingers trailing along Mar’i’s back as the woman wept, Lian watched Iris with caution, as if waiting for her to make her next move. “How did you get us here?” she asked, the expression on her face hard and blank.

       Iris’s eyes flickered down to Mar’i, then back to Lian. “The Multiverse broke in Gotham,” she said. “The borders between universes are weak here, which means the Speed Force bleeds together, energy from every single universe in our system redirected through me. So it was easy, really, to slip between the cracks into the in-between, the mortar between the bricks of the Multiverse.” She knelt down and, not unkindly, reached out to cup Mar’i’s cheek in her hand.

       Lian reached out and smacked her hand away, her eyes burning. Iris’s gaze slipped back up to Lian, and although there was no more lightning behind the look, it was still ominous, powerful, and terrifying. Even without speed – perhaps especially without speed – Iris was dangerous.

       They watched each other, finding themselves at once, finally, on opposite sides.

       Between them, Mar’i sniffed, wiping at her nose with the heel of her palm. “This can’t be Betweenspace,” she said, through the tears still wet on her face. “This is Wayne Manor.”

       “Not the Manor of our universe,” Lian added. The painting of Bruce and his sons was missing, and beneath where it should be, there was a small table on which sat a single vase. White roses wilted there, old and dying in dirty water. No matter how busy, Lian knew that in her own universe, Alfred Pennyworth would never allow such a sight in the Wayne home. As she dragged her gaze across the front hall, a chill ran down her spine. Somehow, in some indefinable way, it was all different, stark and bare and sterile.

       When Iris stood up once more, her eyes followed Lian’s roaming around the room. “Betweenspace could be anything,” she said. “My guess is that whoever’s here decides on the decoration.”

       Hesitant, Lian ventured, “…Who _is_ here?”

       At first, Iris did not answer. “The Spider,” she said. “The infection. The interloper. The anomaly himself, if you want. It doesn’t matter what you call him.” She paused. “I’m going to kill him.”

       Iris began to move forward, but Lian reached out and took strong hold of her shoulder. She was more solid than Lian had felt her in years; when she glanced around to look at the other woman, there was poison in her eyes. “Who is he?” Lian asked.

       She wrenched her arm away. “I don’t have to tell you,” she answered, her voice tight. “If you hang on just a couple more minutes, you’ll get to meet him.”

       Again, Iris moved away, her footsteps reverberating on the marble floors. Before following her, Lian helped Mar’i to her feet, allowed the woman to lean heavily against her as they entered the belly of the house. Above them, the old mansion creaked and groaned.

       Mar’i batted at Lian’s back, getting her attention; when Lian turned, she pointed at a high window, curtains half drawn. When the full weight of what she saw crashed over her, Lian gaped.

       Outside, a lightning storm raged in the vacuum of space, galaxies swirling in the distance. Nebulous clouds of purple-black hung suspended in slow motion, a haze creeping through the sky. It was this alone that convinced Lian Iris was telling the truth, and here they were, tucked neatly between one universe and the next. In Betweenspace.

       Still, at least it looked like Iris was powerless here. If need be Lian was sure that she could overpower Iris in hand-to-hand, as long as the other woman didn’t have her speed. By the stillness in her limbs, the steady control as she strode forward to explore the house, Lian thought that this location must have somehow obscured her connection to the Speed Force. For now, she was just a regular human.

       Iris seemed drawn into the house, irresistibly tugged by something behind heavy oak doors. Seeing no other option, Lian followed her warily. Mar’i stayed behind Lian, although kept hold of her hand tightly. As Iris wandered leisurely down a hall, opening doors and peeking in rooms, Mar’i leaned forward to whisper to Lian. “How do we get out of here?”

       Her eyes never leaving Iris, Lian shrugged. “She knows, but she’s not going to tell us until she’s done what she came here to do.”

       “To _kill_ someone? We can’t let her do that!”

       At this, she did turn around to face Mar’i, eyebrows raised in indignant surprise. “Are you serious?” she asked, and it was a genuine question, filled with uncertainty. “You were the one who said you’d help her get to Betweenspace in the first place.”

       “I didn’t know she was going to _kill_ somebody-”

       “What did you think she meant when she said she was going to stop them?”

       “I thought she meant _stop_ them,” Mar’i responded, in a frantic whisper. “We’re superheroes! That’s what we do, we don’t kill people! We’re not the bad guys!”

       Milagro’s words came rushing back to Lian. _Iris was a hero. Now she thinks she’s a god._

       Lian turned to watch Iris’s back as she deftly moved through the house. For a moment, something tugged at her heart, pulled her away from all the worry and all the crisis: she wondered how familiar Iris was with the layout of the Manor, after all these years. As Titans, they had come here together a few times – once for Damian’s sixteenth birthday, once because Lian dared Damian to steal his father’s purple kryptonite so they could bake it into brownies for Chris, and of course, Lian was sure that Iris had been here many times on her own back then, slipping into Damian's room past Batman’s sensors, faster than the Manor’s security.

       Nudging Mar’i forward, Lian whispered, “Where’s that trademark Tamaranean fury? You almost sound scared.”

       As if hurt by this, Mar’i protested, “I’m half human too, and you’re scared, aren’t you?”

       Lian didn’t answer this, hesitant as always to admit weakness.

       “Besides,” Mar’i muttered, “something’s wrong here, isn’t it? Can’t you feel it?” She shuddered. “I just want to get out of here as soon as possible.”

       With no flicker at all, no movement, as fast as teleportation itself, Iris appeared between them, her face nearly nose-to-nose with Lian’s. Apparently Lian had been wrong: it wasn’t that Iris didn’t have her speed, it was that her control over it was beyond what she had ever had. Gleefully, Iris grinned at Lian. “What are you mumbling about back here?” she asked, and in her voice there was a taunt. “If you have something to share with the class-”

       “We were just saying that this place feels wrong,” said Mar’i, taking physical hold of Iris and removing her from her proximity to Lian. Mar’i positioned herself in between the two women, a buffer to keep Iris’s wily smile away from Lian. “It doesn’t feel like a regular earth. Are you sure you can kill whoever’s here, Iris? Are you sure it’ll take?”

       There was a pause; Iris cocked her head to the side, gazing at Mar’i. Even now, after demonstrating that her speed was not gone, she stood impossibly still.

       “Yes,” she answered. “Betweenspace is more than just a place. Everything connects here. Everything in the Multiverse flows in and out of this tiny subdimension. We are squeezed between the electrons of atoms here, more metaphysical than corporeal.”

       Quietly, Lian said, “You’re talking like a movie trailer again, Iris.”

       Iris’s gaze raked over Lian, dangerous and fiery.

       In soft reply, Iris said, “You think so small, Lian. It’s why we’ll never work. When we were kids you couldn’t dare to dream that I’d love you back. When we were together, you couldn’t even begin to hope that you could have it all, to think that you could double-cross the most powerful association of killers in the world, _and_ score the hot girlfriend. Even now you’re thinking about an exit, thinking about how to get back to the others and get Mar’i out of here and probably, even, you’re thinking about Damian, wondering where he is, wondering if he’s OK, poor baby.” Her lip jutted out in a fake pout. She pretended to sniffle, then the expression leaked off her face, bleeding onto the polished wooden floors of Wayne Manor. Lian had never seen her so cruel. “You’re weak,” she said, “because you only care about one world, when I could have given you them all.”

       “It’s not weakness,” said Mar’i, reaching out, taking Lian’s hand. She hovered slightly above the ground, although not very high because she only had so much energy left. Still, she was taller than Iris, bearing down on her with glowing eyes. “Caring about other people – loving them – takes so much more strength than what you’re doing, Iris.”

       Iris’s eyes flashed, but whether in anger or something else, Lian could not tell. “Oh, really?” she asked, her voice biting. “And what is it exactly that I’m doing?”

       “You’re getting drunk on power,” answered Mar’i bluntly. From down the hallway, an odd scent seemed to creep towards them like a miasma hanging low about their ankles. Lian glanced past Iris, eyes narrowing at the growing stink. “You don’t care about the Multiverse. You don’t care about saving any more universes. This is all about your need to feel powerful.”

       “ _Powerful_?” echoed Iris, livid.

       Above them, Lian thought she heard a door quietly open and close.

       “I don’t need to _feel_ powerful,” said Iris loudly, pressing a finger into her chest. For one second, Lian thought she was shaking, but then she realized it was bigger than that; there was a tremor through the entire Manor as Iris whipped her hand around to point at Mar’i. “Three chronological years after my birth,” she said, her voice burning, “I was already more powerful than you could _dream_. My speed pulled me into a woman, molded me and twisted me and toyed with me like my body Play-Doh. The Speed Force tried to kill me, brought me to the brink of death – but I didn’t let it. I discovered that it was just as malleable as I was to it, so I took hold of it and brought myself back down, turned myself into a _child_ again. If I wanted to, I could be immortal. If I wanted to, I could tear the hearts out of every body in the entire Multiverse. I could be a solitary god. I could run faster than reality itself, and forge a new one just for me. If I wanted to, Mar’i Grayson, then I could reach into the past and make it so you were never born, not in a single universe out there, not one among billions. Not one in an infinite number of worlds. You are,” she said, and chandeliers shook, the old wooden house creaked in protest, “ _nothing_. You are unimportant. You are a nonentity. You aren’t even _real_ unless I want you to be, and I? _I_ ,” behind them, back in the front hall, there was a loud crash, “ _am_ ,” crystal shattered as the chandelier hit the lacquered floors, “ _everything_ ,” and a little girl screamed.

       More out of instinct than anything else, Lian tore her hand away from Mar’i, sprinting away from her and Iris, back to before the front door. In the front hall, before the shattered chandelier, the stink of blood and rot heightened, and Lian retched into her mouth. She spit onto the ground, covering her nose and mouth. Somehow, the stink seemed to be wafting from the wilted white roses. In her ears she could hear her blood pumping loudly, black spots obscuring her vision. Betweenspace was affecting her, she could tell, but surely she could still pull herself together enough to save a little-

       Before her eyes, so quickly she almost didn’t catch it, almost thought she imagined it, the shattered chandelier disappeared. In its place, in the middle of the entrance hall of Wayne Manor, there lay a tiny body.

       Lian’s heart slowed. Her blood felt heavy and dense, weighing her down towards the floor, towards where a little girl with black hair and eyes just like hers except for the glassy sheen of death lay crumpled like a ragdoll. She looked as freshly dead as if it had only just happened, blood still oozing from wounds, and yet her injuries were so intense they could only possibly have been sustained from a grievous accident. More than a beating, something ugly and violent and visceral. Her body was crushed, was ruined, was useless and unrecognizable, except for that she was not unrecognizable, not at all.

       From underneath her, Lian’s legs gave out, and she staggered over to the child’s body. Ignoring the bruising and the blood and the ugly injuries which hurt Lian to see because she could _feel_ them, like indents and contusions and a map of broken veins traced along her own skin, she sat with her legs splayed out and dragged what used to be a little girl into her lap.

       Helplessly, wordlessly, Lian looked up to Iris, who lingered with shadowy eyes behind Mar’i. Immediately Mar’i flew to Lian’s side, collapsing beside the two of them. “At least…” she began. Hands shaking, she brushed her fingers through the girl’s hair, no matter that they came away wet with blood. She wiped her eyes, smearing crimson across her golden skin, and whispered, “At least she’s not suffering.”

       It was clear that Mar’i did not know this little girl, did not recognize her freckled face or straight black hair. Silently, Lian stared an accusation at Iris.

       With the begrudging dissatisfaction of a poker player who must finally show their hand without the confidence that they have won the pot, Iris grunted, “I…haven’t been entirely honest with you.”

       Something seemed to strike in Mar’i’s heart. Beside her, Lian could feel the sudden flare of heat as Mar’i looked up with her deadly stare, bright green eyes alien and frightening underneath the lights of this uncanny copy of a home. “Did you kill her?” she demanded, getting to her feet, then lifting off the ground. There was still blood on her hands. “Did you _kill_ this little girl?”

       With a howl of rage, power surged through Mar’i, and all her energy coalesced into one single bright starbolt, and she hurled it at Iris, releasing a scream of rage.

       Iris disappeared: the starbolt incinerated the vase of flowers, but the smell did not dissipate.

       From behind the two of them, Iris said simply: “No. I didn’t.”

       “It’s all right,” said Lian, cradling the girl’s body in her arms. Too angry to show her exhaustion, Mar’i landed on her feet once more, nostrils flared at Iris, furious and terrifying. “Iris didn’t kill this girl, Mar’i.” Her voice was heartbroken, but she did not seem sad, only gentle. Almost grateful. “She saved her.”

       Baring her teeth, Mar’i snarled, “That doesn’t look like _saved_ to me-”

       “Doesn’t it?” asked Lian.

       Mar’i looked down at her. She did not understand. Lian looked back up at her, and for a moment there was stillness. Mar’i’s gaze flickered between Lian and the dead girl.

       Then Mar’i looked up at Iris, her lips slightly parted in shock.

       “Universes,” said Iris quietly, and for the first time that Mar’i had seen there seemed to be genuine hurt in her eyes, “don’t split by accident. These things don’t just happen. Someone has to do the breaking.”

       “What are you talking about?” demanded Mar’i.

       “I’m talking about a world in which Lian dies before she turns ten years old,” she said, her voice hard as glass. “A world in which the Earth doesn’t quit spinning just because her heart stops beating. I lived through that world, I lived through that entire life and it ends badly, Lian. It ends badly for all of us.”

       Sharply, Lian said: “Except for Damian. I guess his son doesn’t matter to you, as long as the rest of us are happy?”

       This incensed Iris, and she growled in fury. “Damian’s _son_ ,” spat Iris. “Damian’s son is the worst curse this world has ever known. Damian’s son would destroy us all if he could. Damian’s son is dangerous, and yes, sure, Lian, I wanted a world where we grew up together and we were free to fall in love if we wanted to, but also, if I could do _anything_ to save our world from that evil, twisted, heinous bastard, then I’d do it, so I did it. I went back as far as I had to, and I restarted the story from the top. I didn’t expect it to start echoing throughout the Multiverse, and I sure as hell didn’t anticipate that there’d be someone tucked away with your body here in Betweenspace fighting _against_ me, someone who’d rather have a demented son of the demon than you, Lian.”

       Lian said nothing. She could not gather the strength to glare at Iris. She only held the little body in her arms, thinking of a summer spent safe and sound in a blue farmhouse in Kansas, thinking of how the Multiverse was tearing itself apart at the seams because one little girl didn’t die when she was supposed to. The Multiverse was not sentient, she supposed, nor did it possess a corporal body, but in that moment she wanted to put a bullet right through its eye for doing what it tried to do to her.

       Without looking up at Iris, Lian muttered, “You knew this whole time?”

       “Not until I felt the reverberations when Damian’s son wasn’t born. When I pulled the entire Speed Force into myself, I saw everything that I had ever done. And I knew it was all my fault.”

       “Not your fault,” said Lian. Gently, she brushed a lock of hair off the child’s battered forehead. With a bitter smile, she offered, “My dad’s fault, maybe, for not saving me the first time around. What’s the point of being a superhero if you can’t save one little girl?”

       Iris said nothing. Then: “I tried to fix it on my own by getting a different Damian’s son into this world, one that wasn’t corrupt like ours. I screwed it up too many times. I don’t want to do that ever again, so that’s why we need to get rid of whoever it is here in Betweenspace, pulling the strings.”

       At that moment, Mar’i burst into tears. She flew straight towards Iris, and Iris’s eyes widened in panic, and then-

       Mar’i enveloped the other woman in a crushing bear hug, holding her tightly, sobbing onto her shoulder. “So beautiful,” she gasped. “So good. So kind.”

       It was a heel-turn from where she’d been mere minutes ago, and from the very alarmed look on Iris’s face, Lian wasn’t sure which mood she preferred. Lian wanted to laugh, but to laugh felt profane when she held a dead child in her arms, even if the child was herself and she was, unequivocally, not dead.

       Finally, Mar’i collected herself enough to let go of Iris, who eyed her uncertainly. “If we’re done here,” Iris said, although the bewilderment had not quite left her expression, “then now we have to find whoever’s here, and stop them. Once we get rid of them, then everything goes back to normal.”

        “You mean the normal where I’m not dead, right?”

       Iris nodded. Mar’i, still hanging on to Iris, asked, “But do we have to _kill_ them?”

       “Yes,” said Iris. Still uncomfortable at Mar’i’s touch, she shifted slightly away from the other woman; Mar’i didn’t seem to notice. “This ends here. When I’m done with him, the Multiverse will be stabilized again, and we won’t ever have to worry about Damian’s son entering our world.”

       Lian didn’t say anything to this. She lowered the little girl’s body off her lap, onto the ground, then slowly got to her feet and wiped her bloody hands on her uniform. Something felt wrong about this, about how badly Iris spoke of Damian’s son, and how she kept talking about him in terms of the father. Whatever violence was enacted here in Betweenspace – as the mission had been the whole time – it very, very much had to do with Damian. A rising sickness tugged in the bottom of Lian’s stomach, and it had nothing to do with the child’s corpse before her.

       She glanced up at Iris. “You still have your speed,” she said. Iris nodded. “But I haven’t seen you standing this still in years.”

       “All the energy in the Multiverse flows through Betweenspace,” answered Iris. “Which means I have no limits on my access to the Speed Force. I have complete control here.”

       “But you still needed Mar’i to get to Betweenspace.”

       “I needed,” said Iris coolly, “both of you. Did you think I asked for your help because I trust you, Lian? I’m the most powerful being in the universe. I don’t have to trust anyone.”

       Lian said nothing in response to this, because she was sure that Iris regretted it the moment it slipped out of her mouth.

       “What happens if you don’t do it?” asked Lian. “If you don’t kill whoever’s here.”

       Iris shrugged. “I will.”

       “But what if you don’t? Are you just going to keep trying to drag Damian’s son into this universe until one sticks?”

       “I will,” said Iris, her voice hard. “You think you can stop me?”

       Lian very deliberately did not touch the compartments in her belt which hid away something she had plucked from a safe in a basement. At Iris’s request, no less. “I didn’t say that,” she said.

       It looked as if Iris intended to reply to this, but before she could the purple-black galaxies spiraling outside of the windows disappeared. Snow coated the windowsill, a white expanse as far as they could see. Mar’i gasped and pointed behind Lian; the child’s body was gone.

       Immediately Lian whipped around, lowering to a defensive crouch, ready to fight. The vase of white roses once more stood starkly by the door, apparently untouched by Mar’i’s starbolt. This time, the roses were fresh and dewy.

       “Mar’i, stay behind us,” Lian murmured. “You’re out of energy.”

        She expected Mar’i to protest this, but the woman said nothing. Her silence was alarming, so Lian glanced around.

       Mar’i gaped towards the tall, ornate main staircase, completely oblivious to Lian’s look. Tears sprang to the alien’s eyes. “What are you-?”

       And then she heard the footsteps, like pennies dropped against marble. She followed Mar’i’s gaze, and her heart stopped.

       At the top of the staircase, Damian Wayne appeared, dressed up in a characteristic suit and tie, hair slicked perfectly into shape. Lian did not quite drop her fighting stance, but inwardly, she felt a rush of affection and relief: it was _Damian_ , finally, he was here in the Manor, he was OK, she was so worried for him and she didn’t have to be. He was safe. They were about to be reunited. If he wanted, they could go back to California together, even if he dropped out of Stanford, even if he broke up with Adam, even if-

       Lian glanced out the window once more, perturbed. Sunlight reflected on the snow. Outside, it was the middle of the night. What’s more, it was the end-time of spring, quickly approaching summer. June in Gotham did not see snow. Above them, on the landing before the final few dozen steps, Damian stopped. He smiled at them.

       Behind Lian, Mar’i trembled. “Ibn,” she breathed. She tried to shoulder past Lian, but Lian caught her.

       “Wait,” she said. “Mar’i, something’s not right.”

       “ _Ibn_ ,” repeated Mar’i, stars reflected in her eyes, the utterance a last and desperate hope. “Ibn, is that really you, beloved? – did you bring – do you have Tommy with you, is he safe, is our boy safe-?”

       “That’s not Ibn,” said Iris. For the first time here in Betweenspace, her voice seemed to flicker. As if she could read Lian’s mind, she added, “And it’s not Damian either.”

       She disappeared, fast as teleportation she was on the stairs, staring up at the man at the landing. He seemed disinterested and unimpressed. It was Damian, clear as day.

       “You,” said Iris, and her voice shook. “You are the Spider. You’re the interloper. You did – _all_ of this-”

       Damian shrugged.

       Then Lian did something that, much later, she would not be proud of.

       “Iris,” she said, and she let go of Mar’i, pushed forward, following Iris to the steps. “Iris. Wait.”

       “Not now, Lian.”

       “Iris,” she said again. “Wait.”

       “I’m going to kill you,” said Iris to Damian, the same way someone else might advise a friend to wear a coat, because it’s raining outside and you wouldn’t want to catch a cold.

       He smiled at her. “No,” he said. “You’re not.”

       It was his voice. Lian was sure of it. Maybe Iris too heard this, or maybe there was something about his smug expression that caught her off guard; Iris liked people to be frightened by her, intimidated by her power, but Damian had never been afraid of her.

       Either way, his eyes slipped just beyond Iris’s shoulder as Lian’s hands dipped into the pouches at her belt. “Iris,” she began. “Do I think I can stop you?” She caught up behind Iris on the stairs, and held two small devices in her hands.  She reached out to paw at Iris’s shoulder and Iris turned just for one split-second, her eyes narrowed, and then Lian said simply, “Well, actually, yeah,” before she took hold of Iris’s wrists and clamped the Negative Speed Force cuffs around them.

       Iris’s mouth fell open in a silent scream, her eyes wide, pupils dilating as she shuddered violently, and then started to vibrate with such force that for one moment Lian thought she might break the cuffs.

       Then it happened, all at once: everything seemed to crash around them, the sickening smell of blood and rot disappeared, the snow out the window was gone, the painting of Bruce and his boys reappeared and Iris was screaming and there was lightning in the front hall as she tried get a hold of herself, the cuffs negating her power, shutting down her access to the Speed Force, forcing her to slow down to suit the frequency of their own earth.

       Something more than lightning burned in Iris’s eyes: anger, hatred, pure vitriolic fury directed at Lian, who did nothing to ease her suffering, who did not once reach out to remove the cuffs.

       After a full minute of writhing lightning, energy crackling around her, Iris was finally overcome. She collapsed onto the stairs of Wayne Manor.

       From the landing above them – where only moments before, Damian had stood – Alfred Pennyworth, wearing a pair of bat slippers, peered down at them and exclaimed, “My word! Miss Harper, just _what_ are you doing in Wayne Manor in the middle of the night?”

 


	17. HIGHWAY UNICORN (ROAD TO LOVE)

_We can be strong, we can be strong_  
_Out on this lonely road, on the road to love_  
_We can be strong, we can be strong_  
_Follow that unicorn on the road to love_

 _I'm on the road, I'm on the road to love_  
_I'm on the road, I'm on the road to love_

_Get your hot rods ready to rumble 'cause we're gonna fall in love tonight_

\----

       Alfred, bent over in old age, wearing a pair of slippers with Muppet-looking smiling bats on them, peered down at Iris and asked, “That’s not Miss West, is it? What a pleasant surprise – it’s been years, hasn’t it?” Glancing up at Lian inquisitively, he asked, “Is she seriously injured?”

       “Only unconscious,” answered Lian tiredly. “By the way, this is Mar’i,” she added, pointing down to the bottom of the stairs, where Mar’i waved enthusiastically back. “We’ll explain later. For now, is Damian here?”

       Alfred shook his head gravely. “Master Damian has not been home in the past year,” he answered. “Although you surely know that, Miss Harper.”

       Lian had known that. Uneasily, looked down at Iris, at her unmoving, unconscious form. Where was Damian? Could he have been the one in Betweenspace? Would Iris have destroyed him? In any case, she hadn’t even been sure the Negative Speed Force cuffs would work at all. Maybe if she’d known they would, she wouldn’t have been so quick to use them.

       “She’s going to need food when she wakes up,” said Lian, pointing at Iris. “I can take her, if you want.”

       “Nonsense,” said Alfred, shaking her head. “You shall all stay for breakfast.”

       Dawn was beginning to break outside. It was that gray time that harkened sunrise, just before color spilt beyond the horizon, when everything seemed tonal black-and-white. “That’s all right,” said Lian, shaking her head. “We wouldn’t want to impose-”

       Pleasantly, Alfred began, “Miss Harper, surely I don’t have to tell you that with an army of naked, unconscious secret agents on the grounds, as well as half of Gotham’s vigilantes, there is really no avoiding an imposition at this point.”

       Lian felt a surge of guilt at this, but resisted an embarrassed blush. “They’ll wake up soon,” she said. “Checkmate’s probably already sending more people your way. I’m really sorry-”

       “It’s nothing to worry about, Lian,” rumbled another voice. Lian looked up to see Bruce Wayne himself descending the stairs, wearing pajamas and a silk robe, grasping the handrail firmly. Streaks of gray-white marbled his hair from his temples, and he walked slowly. Despite his bulky, normally imposing form, he seemed somehow more fragile and breakable than Lian had ever seen him. Ellen had been right; Bruce Wayne was certainly feeling his age. He did not smile, but that was how she knew that he was being genuine: Batman never smiled. “I have,” he added, “an excellent rapport with Checkmate.”

       She replied, “It’s not you I’m worried about.”

       Bruce made his way down the steps, taking them slowly, before coming to a pause beside Alfred. Glancing down, beyond Iris, he called: “Miss Grayson, if you’re feeling unwell, there is an artificial sunbed located in the Cave. Alfred will take you there if you’d like.”

       Mar’i gazed up the stairs at him. “You know who I am?”

       Bruce didn’t answer, but Lian felt a twinge of what might have been resentment, and turned around to look back at Mar’i. “Of course he does,” she said, with a bitter attempt at a smile. “He’s Batman.”

       “Well,” said Bruce, reasonably. “For the time being.”

       Lian didn’t ask what this meant.

       Nodding at the body on the stairs before them, he asked, “Is Ms. West all right?”

        _Miz_ West: Lian noticed this, noticed too that he hadn’t bothered calling Mar’i _Miz_ Grayson, hadn’t even bothered with the courtesy at all with Lian, assuming instead that they were on first name basis. She eyed him, not upset but also not pleased. Her proximity to his son did not give Bruce Wayne the right to think he knew her.

       “She’ll live,” answered Lian. “Although who knows if she’ll ever run again?”

       “I do,” said Bruce. “I designed those cuffs.”

       “Damian said he did.”

       “Damian bought them from me,” Bruce told her, “in exchange for his account in Gibraltar.” Lian doubted this had been a business transaction: Damian’s offshore bank account was maintained by his mother, and contained hundreds of millions of dollars. Last time Lian was in Gotham, the existence of the account had been leaked to the public by Tommy Elliot, and it had been one of the many factors which brought the force of the law down upon the Wayne family. Lian could still remember, vividly, the moment that Damian had been cornered on the witness stand, and forced to read her name in front of everyone, to admit that he had been funding her independent missions for years in Europe. Independent missions that – although Damian had not known this at the time – she had been assigned through the League of Assassins.

       Still, Lian found herself impatient and even angry at Bruce for bringing this up, for reminding her that Damian was not as perfect as she sometimes liked to tell him he was.

       “So?” asked Lian. “Will she run again?”

       “Given how the Speed Force spiked in this area half an hour ago,” Bruce replied mildly, “I suspect she was redirecting immense power through her body before you cuffed her. Although I can’t say for sure my suspicion is that, much like last time, the cuffs will only serve to close her connection to the Speed Force. Whatever was in her body at the time you stopped her, that will be the only speed she has left. But I imagine even that is enough to match any speedster on the planet, and probably beyond.”

       “Just until she takes them off,” murmured Lian, her mind working through a list of the possible excuses she could give Iris in order to stop the speedster from tearing her apart when her full speed returned to her.

       “The cuffs weren’t created as a tool for her, Lian,” said Bruce, glancing up at her. “They’re a tool for us. They were specifically designed so as to be impossible to remove without assistance.”

       “You mean…we trapped her?”

       Bruce shrugged. “You did,” he said. “I was sleeping.”

       Pre-dawn seemed like an odd time for the Batman to be asleep, but Lian remembered Ellen’s comment that he was still recovering from a hip replacement. Before Lian could say anything else, there was a familiar beeping sound, and Bruce produced a commlink. It looked vintage, almost like a reconfigured pager. When he pressed a button, someone on the other line said, “B, we could use your help out here.”

       “On my way, Ember,” he replied. “Alfred,” he said, turning to the butler. “Do you remember the room on the third floor where Miz West was meant to stay, oh, nine years ago I think it was?” Alfred nodded. “Would you please ask the ladies to help you transport her upstairs?”

       Immediately, Lian began to protest, “If you’re going out to meet with Checkmate, I’m not staying here-”

       Bruce held up his hand to silence her. “I wasn’t talking about you two,” he said.

       He glanced at Alfred, who nodded and said, “Yes of course, Master Bruce. Pleasure to see you again, Miss Harper.” He nodded primly at her, then turned around to head back into the house. Lian could tell he was heading for the grandfather clock entrance to the Cave, which seemed odd.

       Bruce, on the other hand, started down the stairs, passing Iris’s prone body, then Lian as she stood there suspiciously. “Miss Grayson,” he said, reaching out to take her hand. “It is a pleasure to meet you, although I’m sure you know me well.”

       “I do,” she said, with a radiant smile. “You look well, Grandpa.”

       From the expression on his face, Bruce did not seem to hate the term. “I feel very, very badly for my counterpart,” he said to her, with a sly almost-smile, “if _I’m_ the one looking well. If you’d prefer, you’re welcome to rest in the Cave, but,” he glanced at the window, “it looks as if the sun is about to rise anyhow. And if you are anything like your mother, I am sure that you so love watching the sunrise.”

       There was a small, growing blush on Mar’i’s cheeks, and Lian almost rolled her eyes. All of Bruce’s sons had this, the uncanny ability to charm other people into liking them. Lian’s greatest strength, she had always thought, was being impervious to this.

       Bruce glanced around at Lian, then gestured at the door. “Shall we?”

       When they exited the Manor through the grand entranceway, Bruce took a cane from beside the door, and Mar’i offered him her arm, guiding him down the steps. Indeed, the sun was beginning to peek over the edge of the horizon, like a rich beam of syrupy golden light spilling amber honey across the grounds. Another helicopter landed beside Rose’s, gusting billowing wind across the lawn towards them, blades beginning to slow as someone climbed out.

       The woman in the helicopter raised a hand in greeting to Bruce, who returned the wave. As the chopper’s blades finally stopped spinning, sunlight hit Mar’i, and she breathed it in with joy. Bruce reached the woman. She looked around at the battered team, at the groggy Checkmate agents who were only beginning to regain consciousness, all apart from Rose stripped nude by Iris.

       “Sorry about this, Bruce,” said Sasha Bordeaux, Checkmate’s Black Queen. Although she sounded regretful, there was also a note of nonchalance in her voice, as if this were a casual encounter. “If it had been me, I would’ve kept this out of your backyard, but you know how kids are. You’ve gotta let them go their own way.”

       Bruce nodded pleasantly, and Lian cautiously glanced between them. “Black Queen,” she said. “What’s going on here? I tried to reach you, but your comm was disconnected. I thought maybe there’d been a coup or something. Rose attacked me. And,” she continued, rounding on Bruce, “come to think of it, so did your son.”

       Bruce’s eyebrows raised in what might have been genuine surprise. “Damian would never-”

       “Not Damian, Dick. He was trying to get Mar’i. They were all trying to get Mar’i, and I have no idea why. Will somebody please tell me why everyone wants her so badly? Why is she so damn important?”

       Smoothly, Sasha said, “She’s not, Agent Harper. You are.”

       Lian didn’t understand this. She got the feeling, however, that she was about to get her explanation, at last.

       Checkmate’s Black Queen glanced around at the destruction surrounding them. Niloufar was conscious again, and begrudgingly assisted a scowling Rose Wilson, peering in her unpatched eye to check for a concussion. Jordan had also returned. Xe was rubbing at xyr ears, grimacing in pain; Nell and Colin were already gone, although Ellen stood before Rose’s chopper, watching them. “You did all this?” asked Sasha.

       “No ma’am,” answered Lian. “Not all of it. Impulse gave me a hand.”

       “That’s not really fair then, is it?” asked Sasha, cocking her head. Addressing Bruce, she asked, “What do you think?”

       Quietly, Bruce said, “I think she didn’t have Impulse with her when she bested Agent 37, Sasha. And that isn’t easy to do.”

       “What?” demanded Lian. “What did you just say?”

       Ignoring her, Sasha looked to Ellen. “White Queen?”

       Lian stared at Sasha. The name trickled through her head slowly, thick as syrup. White Queen. In her mind’s eye, she saw Ellen’s enigmatic smile. She remembered four years ago, asking Director Bordeaux if there was room in Amanda Waller’s organization for a certain Gotham vigilante.

       “What?” she repeated, in disbelief. To Ellen, she asked, “What? You’re – you can’t – _what_?” A flare of anger reared in her belly, and she began, “That’s bullshit! I’ve been in this organization since I was seventeen! You’re here on my recommendation, how could you possibly make it to Queen before-”

       “Don’t be jealous, Harper,” said Ellen, with a shrug. “It’s true, you did recommended me once, so now I’m returning the favor. The promotion’s new anyway, so you’re not all that far behind me.”

       “What are you talking-?”

       And then it hit her, all at once.

       Rose, still being tended to by Niloufar, groaned through gritted teeth, “Dammit. Black Queen, this isn’t fair, she had help-”

       “You had every resource of Checkmate available to you, Knight, not to mention those of our very generous partner.” Sasha gestured towards Bruce, who nodded in acknowledgment. “And as of now,” she said, “when you address the Black Queen, Agent Wilson, you aren’t addressing me.”

       Lian gaped at them.

       “Congratulations,” said Ellen, with that almost-smile.

       “Grayson,” barked Rose. “You could’ve gone a little easier on the friendly fire.”

       Although she had not thought it possible, Lian’s jaw dropped even further, and she turned on her heel to stare at Mar’i, who floated in the warm morning sun, practically glowing with joy. “I knew you could handle it,” she called.

       Lian spluttered, “You knew?”

       “Ember came to visit when I was in STAR’s facilities,” she said, with a shrug. “She explained everything to me. It sounded like a fun game, and I was excited to help you get your promotion, Lian!”

       “Did _everyone_ know?”

       Lazily, Jordan raised xyr hand. “We didn’t,” xe said, nodding at Niloufar.

       “Well,” replied Niloufar guiltily, “I kind of did.”

       “You’re part of Checkmate,” said Sasha, who had eyes only for Lian. “If you can’t put up with a few secrets and lies in the name of competition, feel free to turn down the position, Director Harper.”

       Lian said nothing immediately.

       Then she said, “OK, but I’m officially banning this kind of bullshit. No wonder we got audited last year.”

       Someone came bounding over from the Manor, all bright hair and bright eyes and breathless smiles. “Hey,” she said to Lian brightly. “Arsenal, right? I’m Batgirl, and before you ask, I definitely told them that this whole fake-attacking thing was totally pointless and they should just have interviews like normal people do.”

       Lian had never met Stephanie Brown, but she had heard Damian on the phone with her occasionally. He loved her very much; their relationship seemed similar to the one Lian herself had with Damian, close but platonic, intimacy without romance. Stephanie had known Damian before Lian did, and it made her feel gentle and happy to know that he had had someone like that in his life for so long. “Nice to meet you,” she said. “What are you doing here?”

       “Cass and I were hanging out in the Cave when you showed up,” she answered, pointing at someone else behind her. Lian recognized Cass Cain; she was a friend of Connor’s, and Lian had met her a few times, although had exchanged fewer than ten words with her. Cass gave a small smile and waved. “We just dragged the cute speedster into a guest bedroom, thought we’d join the party. All kinds of causes for celebration today, huh?”

       Apart from this revelation about Checkmate, Lian actually could not think of one other reason to celebrate, so she asked, “Like what?”

       “Like…” Stephanie grinned, then reached out and grabbed Cass’s hand, tugging her forward. “She’s not about to brag about it, so I will for her. You’re not the only one who got promoted today, Lian.”

       There was a pause, and then, a dawning realization on her face, Lian looked at Bruce for confirmation. When he nodded at her, there might have been a proud smile on his face.

       It was Ellen who spoke first, striding forward past Bruce. “I look forward to working with you,” she said, to Cass, “Batman.”

        Sasha told Lian she would be in touch, and Rose ended up shaking her hand begrudgingly. “You beat me,” she said simply. “But you better tap me for succession, kid.” Checkmate left, as did Niloufar and Jordan – but only after Niloufar gave Mar’i one last brief checkup, and made her promise to keep her updated on her medical records.

       Lian, Mar’i, Stephanie and Cass, and, surprisingly, Ellen, went with Bruce back to the Manor. Lian went partly because Iris was there and she wanted to make sure the speedster was all right when she woke up, and also partly because Bruce had said, “After all you’ve been through, surely the least I can do is provide you with a hot meal,” and Steph had added, “You mean the least _Alfred_ can do. You can’t cook worth a damn, old man,” and Lian liked them all so much (and also was so very hungry) that she wasn’t about to turn them down.

       Mar’i and Stephanie went to help in the kitchen; Bruce talked quietly with Cass, taking out a giant old book which Lian suspected was full of old uniform designs – Lian filed a mental note to help Cass out. She had no doubt that Bruce’s fashion sense was outdated and generally all-around terrible compared to her own. Meanwhile, she excused herself to visit the bedroom in which Iris slept.

       Helpfully, Alfred had hooked Iris up to a machine to monitor her vitals. Lian watched her heartbeat, steady and normal, room silent except for the drawing of breath and the whirring of medical machinery.

       Then the door creaked open.

       Without glancing up, Lian said, “That was one helluva stunt you guys decided to pull on me.”

       “Sasha came up with it,” said Ellen. “You know she has unconventional methods.”

       “To say the least.”

       There was a silence.

       “All that stuff you said about the Multiverse,” Ellen continued, carefully. “About Damian. About his son. Is that true?”

       “Yes,” said Lian.

       “You know who it is? The mother, I mean.”

       Another silence. This was precisely what Lian had been thinking before Ellen appeared. It was proximity to Gotham that had sent Iris’s powers into overdrive, but Wayne Manor had caused her to go haywire, and stepping into the house itself had been like entering the calm of the storm. In order to open that rift, something had to have been there to open the door, and even if Damian had been in Betweenspace, he certainly was not in Wayne Manor. The only other explanation was the presence other parent whom Iris had not been able to identify. This had seemed fruitless, until Lian learned about the others in the house, the women at work in the Cave below.

       “Yeah,” Lian sighed. “I think I do. When you think about it, it makes a lot of sense. I should’ve known.”

       Ellen was silent. Then she asked, “In some other universe somewhere out there…you think he loved her?”

       “Maybe," said Lian. "I’d like to think so, but he’s always been afraid… I wouldn’t put it past his mother, I mean. To create a child without their consent. She really believes that bullshit about perfect genetic specimens, and all that.”

       For another long moment, Ellen considered this. Then she asked, “Are you going to tell Cass?”

       “I’m not even going to tell Damian,” said Lian. “Except maybe that the Multiverse is eroding, and that we’re going to find some way to stop it that doesn’t involve pulling his would-be sons from any other universes.” _Or killing him_ , she thought, thinking of the Damian who had smiled at her in Betweenspace.

       “Will Iris be OK?”

        “She’ll be fine.”

       “And you?”

       “I will be too, as soon as I quit being pissed off that you guys almost killed me over a damn promotion.”

       Ellen chuckled. She opened her mouth to say something else, and then there was a shrill ringing. The smile melted off her face as she returned to her work, and she immediately retrieved her commlink. “Ember,” she said, in lieu of greeting

       Her eyes widened; there was the slightest flicker of emotion across her expression, as stark as the puckered scar across her skin. She turned and headed out of the room, away from Lian. As she did so, Lian heard her murmur, “…Damian?”

       They ate breakfast together, almost as if a family except not quite. Bruce looked happier than Lian had ever seen him, watching Cass with a sort of quiet pride. Every now and then Ellen would murmur something to him that caused them both to grin that almost-smile, and Lian realized why it seemed so familiar on Ellen’s face: it was all Bruce.

       Stephanie and Cass seemed close, and if Lian’s gaydar was still as on-point as it had been when she was a teenager, they were _definitely_ girlfriends. Lian didn’t have the heart to tell them about Damian, about an alternate-universe son, about Cass’s own role in the slow destruction of the Multiverse.

       Damian, Ellen relayed to Lian and Bruce, was fine. Apparently too proud to go to his family for help, he had asked her if she could authorize him for one of her safehouses in Philadelphia. She said that he sounded fine, and if it seemed like there was something else he said to her, neither Lian nor Bruce asked.

       During breakfast, Mar’i delightedly told them stories of her universe, laughed and listened as they returned the favor, and gazed adoringly at them all. With the exception of Ellen and Stephanie, she had known the counterparts of them all, and surely she had loved them. Lian could read it clearly on her face.

       Afterwards, Ellen left. Stephanie and Cass headed back down to the Cave, and Bruce said something quietly to Mar’i, then followed them. For a little while, Lian talked with Alfred. She found out that Damian had in fact called home, had called Alfred specifically; that he had decided to drop out of law school, that he had threatened to quit being Robin, and that he had admitted that he ran out of his medication. Quietly, Alfred told Lian that he had taken the liberty of sending some. Damian had said nothing of receiving his meds, but then again, Damian found admitting weakness almost as difficult as Lian did. “Miss Nayar says he isn’t too far away,” he said, washing dishes slowly. “I hope he comes home. I hope you stay, Miss Harper, at least for a little while. I think it would do him good to see you here.”

       It was then that Lian glanced out the window and saw Mar’i in the back garden, basking in the summer sun. She trailed her fingers across the petals of roses, content and peaceful amidst the flowers.

       After a few moments, she realized that Alfred was smiling at her gently. Her gaze snapped away from Mar’i. Despite herself, she felt a blush rise to her cheeks. “Some time ago,” began Alfred, drying his hands on a tea towel, “almost a decade ago now - I remember Damian would come home from his weekends with the Titans, and he would talk about you, Miss Harper.”

       Lian glanced up at the old man, feeling for some reason almost guilty. It seemed unfair, she thought, that Damian had to be so far from home so long, doing his best to hold himself together, and she could sit in his kitchen with the man who practically raised him and receive such unbidden generosity.

       And she also felt suddenly cautious, aware that there were a great many things a teenage Damian could’ve said about her, and that they were not all kind.

       “He liked you very much,” Alfred told her quietly. “You two started off so well after your first mission together. For a long time, he would tell me that he didn’t understand what he’d done to make you so cold to him.”

       This verged too close to an accusation, so she began, “I wasn’t-”

       Alfred held up his hand to silence her. “I remember,” he continued, “one day he came home, and I fed him in this very kitchen, and he was quiet for some time but then he said that he finally understood. Understood what it was between the two of you that suffocated a friendship before it began.”

       There was a slight twinkle in the old man’s eyes as he recalled the memory fondly, a gentle smile on his face that might have been tinged with pride.

       “I shall never forget what he said to me that day,” he told Lian sagely. “As I am sure you are by now aware, Master Damian is at his wisest when he is also at his most vulnerable, and he is made most vulnerable by his own love, compassion, and empathy. He said he finally understood that love is a frightening thing. That some people find themselves paralyzed by it.”

       In this moment of quiet, Lian recalled the sick sinking feeling she used to have in her stomach when she was alone with Iris, an ache to admit things that everyone else already knew. Despite their history, she and Damian had talked little about this. But of course he had known. Damian was uncannily good at spotting weakness, and it was only a testament to how deeply he respected her that he had never exploited this wound for his own purposes.

       Alfred nodded out towards the garden. “You aren’t a teenager anymore, Miss Harper,” he said. “Don’t make the same mistakes.”

       She said nothing for a moment. Then she got to her feet.

       “Excuse me,” she said, and she headed out the French doors to join Mar’i in the gardens behind the house.

       Mar’i paused when Lian came out, cupping a red rose in her hand.

       Lian asked, “Have you ever been to the Manor?”

       “After my parents split up, I practically lived here,” Mar’i answered. “The roses were here. But the wildflowers weren’t, and neither was the vegetable garden.”       

       Lian wanted to tell her that the vegetable garden was Damian’s doing, because it was a funny story, actually: he used to bring fresh produce to the Titans Tower on occasion, which he seemed to think made him cool and hip, but was actually just very nerdy. But she didn’t want to talk about Damian. She didn’t want to talk about Damian or Ibn or Dick Grayson or Bruce Wayne. She suddenly thought that she didn’t want to talk at all.

       Instead she watched the other woman, bathed in sunlight, and she saw the drawn expression on her face, emotions as always plain to see. Lian wished that she could take her in her arms and hold her and kiss her and stay by her side forever, so that she would never hurt, she would never be lonely, she would never be torn from anything she loved ever again. Self-consciously, she twisted the rings on her fingers, aching for Mar’i, aching for her smile, her love, her kiss.

       And then something occurred to her.

       She looked down at her fingers. She remembered Mar’i’s words after she had confessed to Lian that she and Ibn hadn't even been married. _I don’t even have a ring to remember him by._

       She thought of sitting on the ground before Mar’i in Milagro’s safehouse, of warm mouth and hot skin. _I love you, too._

       “Mar’i,” Lian blurted out.

       The alien looked up at her. “Yes?”

       The words came tumbling from Lian’s lips before she even had time to think. “Do you want to get married?”

       Mar’i looked up at Lian, lips slightly parted, green eyes wide. Fear suddenly gripped Lian’s heart like steel wires – _shit_ , she shouldn’t have said that, of course it was a stupid question, Mar’i just lost her whole entire world-

       And then something swept Lian off her feet, into the sky, and Mar’i held her as she soared through the early summer sun, and she sang, “Yes, yes, yes! I want to marry you, Lian! Yes, yes!” and she kissed Lian on her mouth and Lian was stunned but she kissed back, and Mar’i dipped her in air and then Lian was laughing too as Mar’i lowered them back to the ground, radiant and beaming at her.

       Clumsily Lian pulled a ring off her own finger and took Mar’i’s hand; it did not fit her ring finger, and Lian began, “Oh, sorry, maybe my thumb ring-” but Mar’i took the ring and slid it onto her pinky, sighing in delight.

       “It’s perfect,” she breathed. “Lian, it’s _perfect_. I love it. I love you.” She kissed her once more, laughing sweetly into her mouth. “I love you. I love you.”

       Stunned, shaken up, and barely able to breathe between kisses, Lian still somehow managed to murmur back into Mar’i’s mouth.

       “Mar’i,” she breathed between one kiss and the next, “I… I love you too,” and she was pleased, and terrified, to discover that this was true.

 


	18. CHERRY WINE

  
_Her fight and fury is fiery_   
_Oh but she loves_   
_Like sleep to the freezing_   
_Sweet and right and merciful_   
_I'm all but washed_   
_In the tide of her breathing_   
  
_And it's worth it  
It's divine_

\----

       “Why,” began Lian, her hand curled around a flute of champagne, “the _fuck_ did you let me do this?”

       Roy Harper, sitting next to his daughter, let out a bark of laughter and clapped her on the back. Her wedding dress was strapless and short, her towering stilettos bringing her up so she was only one or two inches shorter than her new wife, rather than the regular five or six. They were in the backyard of a beautiful big blue farmhouse in Kansas. The last time she had been here, she had been eight years old, and in hiding under the care of Jason Todd – whose absence she felt very strongly, like a little stab of emptiness in her otherwise filled-up heart. Tam Fox was there, along with Jason’s daughter Allison, not much more than a baby. When she’d shown up, Roy had lifted her up and thrown her gently into the air, grinning down at the baby girl. For not the first time in the past few weeks, Lian felt a surge of guilt: her father _loved_ being a father, he had so loved looking after her when she was a little girl. She wished that she could trust him like a daughter should unconditionally trust her father, but she was an adult now, with more secrets than she thought he had ever kept from her.

       Plus, she’d felt really embarrassed when Roy asked her, “Is little Al the flower girl?” and Lian had said, “Wait, what? Is a flower girl, like, mandatory?”

       So yes, the wedding had been a tad rushed. For some reason Lian had had that irresistible urge in the back garden of Wayne Manor, and a month later here they were. At the moment Mar’i was on the dance floor with Kory, to whom she had been introduced only a few weeks ago. Most everyone had anticipated Kory to be angry, to be enraged at Mar’i’s fate and the fact that no one had told her sooner. But her utter, pure joy drowned any trace of fury. Often in the mornings Lian would wake to an empty bed, Mar’i outside in the stratosphere watching the rising sun with Kory. The Tamaranean may not have been her mother, at least not in this world, but she loved Mar’i as much as only a mother could.

       Even with all the contentment and happiness and adoration that she had felt when she kissed Mar’i at the end of the ceremony – officiated, of course, by Connor – there was still a rising fear rearing its head in Lian’s gut as she watched Mar’i, happy and beautiful and perfect, dancing and laughing with Kory. It had all been too quick, too raw, too real, and she was still scared at how deeply she loved Mar’i, how _bad_ she had it for her. Lian had been in love before, and it had been a crushing, miserable experience which resulted in Lian pushing away, hard, because she couldn’t handle the stress, couldn’t handle the fear. Back then, Iris had felt to Lian like the sun, and every time she smiled it was as if searing sunlight bore down on Lian alone. This had proved far too much pressure.

       And yet it was so easy with Mar’i. So real. Mar’i had no expectations, no desires beyond living the next moment to the fullest extent, expressing herself openly and without fear or reservation. It was terrifying, and it was thrilling, and Lian knew she was going to spend the rest of her life with the other woman and the thought humbled her.

       In response to her question, Roy answered, “Couldn’t have stopped you if I tried, baby girl. You’re in too deep.”

       “We should’ve done it in Vegas,” she said, shaking her head. “Just a weekend in Vegas. Way too many people here.”

       “Lian, there are like, ten people here, and most of them are related to you.”

       “All of them are related to me, now,” she pointed out. “Mar’i is Dick’s daughter, so technically that makes Damian my uncle-in-law.”

       Someone swept up behind Lian, leaning down to kiss her on the cheek. “Speak of the Devil,” said Damian smoothly, before he settled into the seat beside Lian, “and they shall appear.”

       Damian was trying out gender-neutral pronouns; when they had reconnected, he cried into her shoulder and told her that something was wrong, something was missing but he didn’t know what. She listed off about twenty things missing in his life (“Adam, stability, a normal childhood, a not-terrible relationship with either one of your parents-”) and he had surprised her in the end by asking her to help him come up with a way to come out to his family. Although she’d done the best she could, he hadn’t moved forward on the actual coming-out, and Lian kind of doubted he would. As with all things in his family, Damian’s queerness was not the real struggle he felt: instead it was more about ownership, about competition, about how much of himself he wanted to allow his father to have, knowing that one day such knowledge could be used in a power play against him.

       Even though Lian did not especially love Bruce Wayne, she thought Damian was selling his father a little short. But the Waynes only managed to function through compartmentalization, so she did not protest too strongly. In any event, he had instructed her to continue using he/him pronouns in public, but he tended to err towards they/them in his own speech.

       Almost unconsciously, Lian reached out along the table and took his hand. “Speaking of our new relation,” he said, placing an envelope before her, “I got you something.”

       “Anything less than a honeymoon resort in the Bahamas, and I’m breaking up with you, Wayne.”

       “You’re married,” Damian pointed out. “One would hope we’ve already broken.”

       “Mar’i doesn’t mind,” said Lian, and her father pretended not to hear this conversation; again, he had never quite understood their relationship, which was not romantic and rarely sexual but still something strong, deep, and intimate. She tore open the envelope and raised her eyebrows. It was a check for several thousand dollars.

       Pointing down at it, Damian said, “Check the memo,” which she did.

       It read: _To my favorite niece, for laser tattoo removal._

       She laughed then knocked him in the head, pushing him away from her. “Admit it,” she said. “You love it.”

       A few weeks ago, Lian got two tattoos. She’d been planning the first for a while now, although she wouldn’t admit it to Damian. It was a small watercolor Robin on her right shoulder, its red breast a splotch of color, almost like a ring of blood. Although Damian pretended he thought it was tacky and awful, she had seen how touched he was when she showed it to him, and even now she caught his eyes wandering to glance at it every chance he got, eyes tender and full of gratitude.

       On her back, below the iris curling up her neck which she had gotten back when she and Iris were working abroad, she also now had a fresh heart with a curly banner across it inscribed with Mar’i’s name. This one was in fact tacky and awful, she could admit, but it was the most basic expression of love via tattoo that she could possibly think of, and Mar’i had wept with emotion when she got it, and they’d made passionate love that night, passionate, incredible, mind-blowing clit-numbing love, so Lian was pretty happy with it.

       “I don’t need your money,” she said. “But I appreciate the sentiment.”

       “Oh, I know,” Damian replied. “That’s not actually your gift, but I did donate that amount in your name to the Queen AIDS Foundation.” This was one of many causes Lian championed, along with Mia, a spokesperson for the Foundation. But Lian suspected this move was not entirely without ulterior motive; Damian had spoken very little about his breakup with Adam, but Lian got the feeling that he was still figuring out how to work through it all, and throwing money at causes had always been one of Damian’s primary means of expressing emotion. “If you want your real gift,” he pointed at a big shed beyond the yard, where there had once been an old broken-down tractor, “check the garage.” Nodding at Roy, he added, “Your father helped me pick it out.”

       “Wait,” she said, taking his hand once more as he began to stand up. “I have something for you, too.” She dug her hand into the neckline of her dress determinedly, and Damian rolled his eyes and almost laughed at her unrefined nature, something he had never quite been able to stamp out of her. Finally, triumphantly, she revealed an ivory-colored envelope, squished slightly because she had been keeping it safely pressed against her body for so long. “I stuck it in my dress because I keep forgetting to give it to you,” she explained. “I talked to your mom a while back, when we were looking for a place for Mar’i.” Damian raised his eyebrows, but did not object. She held the letter out for him. “This is for you,” she said, “from her.”

       For a long moment, Damian regarded the thing. And then he took it from her and, without opening it, he held it over the flickering candle before them until it caught. The fire slowly slipped upwards, turning both the envelope and the letter within into blackened ash. He smiled at her, then blew out the flames. “Thank you,” he said, and he headed into the house.

       Knowing that she had made a misstep but also refusing to let Damian concern her on such a beautiful night, she ignored this. Thrilled at the prospect of a real, actual, sincere gift from Damian Wayne (it could, she thought, be anything ranging from a new car to a Batcomputer of her own to a giant, giant chocolate fountain, which he knew that she would love), Lian didn’t wait. Her father grinned and followed her to the garage while Damian, never one to be on the receiving end of too much gratitude, stayed away in the house.

       In the backyard, as Mar’i danced with Kory, two-stepping in thin air as if dancing along an invisible floor, Lian screamed with utter delight as they pulled away the garage door to reveal a familiar, stylish-looking aircraft, upgraded with new and modern tech. “The _Pequod_?” she shrieked. “The fucking _Pequod_?”

       “With the blessing of Batman herself,” said Roy, rapping on the metal body of the plane fondly. “Welcome to the Outsiders, baby.”

       From behind the hulking aircraft, someone else tapped the plane, sending heavy resonations around to the front, where Lian was near fainting.

       “Oh yeah,” said Roy. “And one more thing, although this one’s not from me or Damian.”

       A man appeared from behind the jet, a grin on his face, the streak in his hair more white than gray. Lian’s heart rose into her throat.

       Then she threw herself forward, wrapping her arms around him tightly. “You made it!” she said, breathlessly. “Tam told me you were off in, fucking, who-knows-where-”

       “Aw, are you kidding me?” asked Jason Todd, returning the embrace, patting her back. “You think I’d miss a chance to come back here? Too many good memories in this old house. Hey, do you know if Rob the librarian still lives in town?”

       Lian laughed, almost ashamed of the tears in her eyes. It had been too long since she’d seen Jason Todd, and she hadn't realized until this moment just how much she missed him. Pulling away, she slapped her hand against his chest. “Why the hell are you so late? You could’ve given a bomb-ass toast!”

       “You want a bomb-ass toast?” he asked, sounding very sincere. “I can give a bomb-ass toast, sweetheart.”

       “And _look_ at you,” she said, with a sigh. “Please tell me that’s not your uniform.”

       “It’s my dress uniform. Besides, I’m not the one who came to my own damn wedding in a cocktail dress.”

       “Well, I wanted everyone to be able to appreciate my rad as hell tats.” She twisted around, displaying to Jason the watercolor poppies drawn on the back of her left calf. They were an homage to the poppies that Jason had tattooed across his own back, tattoos meant to cover up ugly scars that even a Lazarus Pit could not heal, tattoos she had loved so dearly by the end of that long Kansas summer when she was only fake-dead.

       In her mind’s eye, she saw herself as a nine-year-old, broken and battered and destroyed in the ruins of Star City. She saw Iris sacrificing the Multiverse to get her back. In that moment, with Jason pretending he wasn’t getting emotional at those beautiful poppies, with Mar’i outside in her long white dress, beaming with happiness and joy, with her family and the people she loved in that beautiful old farmhouse, Lian didn’t care one flying rat’s ass about the Multiverse. For the rest of her life, she would be eternally grateful to her first love.

       Back in the house, Damian was on his commlink. “I don’t know her very well, to be honest,” he said, running tap water over the burnt envelope, “but Mar’i is uncannily perfect for Lian, if you ask me. I couldn’t tell you how that happened. It’s as if the world bent backwards to get them together.” He paused. “I’m glad. She deserves it.”

       He turned around and dropped blackened letter into the trash, then wandered away from the backyard, towards the front of the house. Dusk was fading into nighttime, and crickets chirped. The front lawn, unlit by the lights of the party out back, was mostly dark apart from fireflies blinking their lazy way through the night.

       “I still don’t see why you didn’t come, though,” Damian added. “If nothing else, I’m sure Lian’s father could’ve used a date.” He paused; on the commlink Dick said something, and Damian laughed. “Neither of them got walked down the aisle, Lian objects to that practice.” A question from Dick’s end. “Because,” began Damian, “it’s a fundamentally heteropatriachal tradition based in the notion of male ownership over their daughters’ bodies-”

       He broke off abruptly, staring out the wide window in the front door to where the fireflies floated peacefully through the darkness.

       “Dick,” he said. “I’ll call you back.”

       He placed the commlink on the counter in the kitchen, then opened the front door and slipped onto the porch, where two old rocking chairs still sat. Behind him, he gently closed the door. Crickets chirped, and cicadas buzzed. Out on the green lawn, at the edge of the trees – some of which still had Xs carved into them, evidence of target practice back when Lian was nine and had been gifted with a new bow – there stood Iris West, her dark skin blending in with the shadows.

       “Hi,” she said. She did not say it loudly, but Damian still heard it.

       He was cautious at first, reticent. The last time he saw her had been four years ago, and even then only for a moment, only while she shook with power and reverberations thrumming from him.  _Your fault_ , she'd said back then, although he hadn't known then what she meant.  _Your fault_.

       “Is that really you?” he asked, and his voice was raised. She nodded. “And you aren’t about to disappear?”

       “Probably yes,” she replied.  “But for the time being, I can spare a minute or two.”

       There would have been a silence between them, but the organic whirring of the wilderness surrounding the house broke straight through that, paying no heed to the breakneck tension of unresolved feelings. Then Damian padded down the steps from the porch and crossed the lawn. When he stood a few feet away from her, he stopped.

       Nodding at her dress, he said, “You’re a little late for the ceremony.”

       Iris shrugged. She was clothed in crimson red, a customized bridesmaid dress designed by Lian. “I didn’t know if it was cool for an ex to show up at the wedding.”

       “She invited you, didn’t she?”

       “Still.”

       Damian watched her, and he did not seem upset. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he let out a wry little laugh. “You always did think you knew everything.”

       “Because I do.”

       “You see everything,” Damian countered mildly, “but you never linger long enough to know what the other person sees. You might know where we are and what we’re doing, but you don’t know us, Irey. Even after all these years, you still don’t.”

       This hurt her. “I know you,” she said lowly.

       He didn’t answer this.

       Then she spread her arms out. “Well. I’m here now, and I’m not going anywhere.”

       His eyes flickered to the braces at her wrists, cuffs that he had once clamped around Jai’s arms in order to harness his power and slow Iris down. “Lian dug those up?”

       “She did,” Iris answered, holding up her wrists. “All they really do is keep my connection to the Speed Force closed, so I can’t redirect it anymore. So try not to get yourself beat up too bad, because I won’t be able to help this time, if you do.” There was a weak attempt at a smile; in pity, Damian returned it. “But I’m not complaining. These cuffs trapped speed inside of me too, enough that I’m still the fastest person alive. I can’t be everywhere at once anymore, but…” she paused, trailing off, searching for words. It was a gesture that was so unlike her. “But now I can be here. In one place. Complete.”

       “For Lian?”

       “No,” said Iris.

       Damian hesitated. “For me?”

       “No, you narcissistic asshole,” she said. “For me. For once in my life, I’m standing still. If that isn’t some kind of heavy-handed metaphor for finding myself – literally – then I don’t know what it is.”

       A smile passed over Damian’s face. He pulled his hands out of his pockets. “You and me both, I suppose,” he said. “I’m not going back to Gotham. And I’m certainly not about to move in with the newlyweds.”

       “Where will you go?”

       He shrugged. “I don’t know yet. All I know is that I’ve been Robin for a very long time. You of all people know that. It’s time I figure out who Damian is going to be.”

       He watched her, watched those brown eyes he used to know so well, that gentle face he’d kissed so many times, the woman that had grown from the girl he’d known back when they had been wildly, recklessly, madly in love. She watched him back: she remembered his intensity, that sheen of glory in his eyes when he won a fight, that glassy adoration when she kissed him back. People liked to say that kids don’t fall in love, kids don’t understand love, but that which had passed between them had been so pure, so gentle, so good. He had been the first one to truly see her power; she, his weakness. Maybe their love had been more about what they wanted than what they were, but isn’t that what love is, in the end? Becoming the person you wish that you were?

       In the cool summertime air, music from the back of the house pulsed through the night. Laughter and conversation floated their way, and a bright light like a star lit up above them, Mar’i and Koriand’r dancing in the sky.

       Like the awkward teenager he had been when they first met, Damian cleared his throat. Then he asked: “Would you like to dance?”

       Iris watched him for a moment, almost warily.

       Before Lian came looking for Damian, Iris was gone. He stood there alone in the growing cold.

       In the years to come, Damian would choose to forget that night.

       It was so much easier to hate her if he could forget her smile, and her touch, and the warmth where she had held him as they gently danced together beneath the inky night sky.

 


End file.
